


Stray's Shelter

by TNKT



Series: Unfair Lives [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Abandonment, Age Difference, Angst, Asexuality, Asphyxiation, Assassins & Hitmen, Bathing/Washing, Bruises, Child Abuse, Crimes & Criminals, Deaf, Drugs, Dystopia, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Flashbacks, Friendship, Gen, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Memory Related, Molestation, Near Future, Original Character(s), Permanent Injury, Physical Abuse, Protectiveness, Slow Build, Strong Child, Supernatural Elements, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Torture, Trauma, Trust Issues, Worn down cities
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-29
Packaged: 2018-06-08 14:35:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 32
Words: 71,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6859000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TNKT/pseuds/TNKT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They meet in the middle of the night, in a dark and cold alley. One is a man with no ambitions and no past, the other a hurt boy with a bleak future. They don't know each other, but tonight, fate has decided to make their paths cross. Not for long, but long enough for both of their lives to change...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Fated Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's already happened so many times before. Reg knows how pointless it is to help someone alone in these dark streets, he can't do anything for them. So why does he even try this time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. I'm Tanukitan and this is my first story, and I suck at summaries and tagging so if you think I can do any better with this, then please don't hesitate giving me advice. I really need it.

Buildings loom over lifeless streets, surrounded by the whispering of the wind. The moon is stifled by ominous clouds and the dark of the night seems to muffle every little sound. Death slithers across every inch of the dirtied snow, snuffing out any residing flicker of life.  
The man is walking around in the cold snow, his eyes reflecting the glint of the occasional icicle, strolling down the inky alleys of the sleeping city. A city so corrupted, so ugly, so rotten that it was chosen to be his home: Crocuta City.  
This city, decaying in flecks of concrete and dust: this is where he's chosen to live the rest of his days. It's enough for him.

Stumbling upon a hobo's leg or a sleeping body isn't that uncommon for him during his night-time stroll. It's not enough to startle him or anyone else living in this shithole. But tonight, dear Crocuta City and Lady Fate decide to change Reg's monotonous lifestyle as he sees a half-hidden dark shape in another dirty street.

He notices right away something isn't quite right. The way the man is sitting, hunched over and holding his stomach, half hidden behind an overflowing trash bin. The tense position of his shoulders. The fog rising from his mouth in uneven bursts. The filthy surroundings, painted with various bodily fluids that could be remains of other forms of life these alleys have to offer.  
He hesitates for just one second.  
Isn't this just another homeless guy? Another runaway? Another victim? He has nothing to give, nothing at all. He knows very well that acting in this kind of situation is the very definition of the word pointless. In this city, encountering a body alone on the ground in the middle of the night means you might as well consider it a corpse.

But then the guy moves, and the shadows slide with him, his face turns and his eyes appear.  
And it's not a man. It's a kid.  
Reg feels something shift inside of him.  
The kid's eyes widen upon discovering the tall man standing in the middle of the alley, his whole body jerks and he backs up into the wall, easing himself back in the dissimulating darkness of the bin's shadow.

Reg doesn't know if what he's doing is the right thing to do. He takes one step forward, calling out.  
"Hey, you all right?"  
Not a sound. He takes another step towards the kid, and another, the snow softly crunching underneath the soles of his feet. He draws closer to the bin, and finally rounds it.  
The kid is curled up in the angle between the trash bin and the wall, his head down and furrowed in his scarf. His breathing is ragged, painful to listen to. His shape is shivering, racked by heavy breaths and biting cold, and noticeably smaller than Reg had first thought.

He lowers himself to the ground, at eye level with the kid. Even though it's terribly cold, there are visible beads of sweat on the boy's forehead. His eyes are squeezed shut, the eyelids trembling lightly.  
"Hey, can you hear me?"  
The eyes screw shut even tighter.  
"Kid, answer me." He sweeps away the hair to get a better look the kid's face. Or at least, he tries to.  
The eyes fly open, and next thing he knows, he's pushed over in the snow. He hastily tries to get up, reaches out to the kid and meets a pair of wildly panicked green eyes.  
"Wait, wait, calm down-"  
The kid scrambles to his feet and jerks away from the outstretched hand, a terrified look on his face.  
His mouth is open, his throat is working, but he doesn't utter a single sound.  
He whips around and makes a run for it, still clutching his stomach. No, clutching his wrist.  
"Wait! Hold up!" Reg doesn't even think as he lurches forward, running after him.

They start a mad chase around the old buildings that tower over them. The kid doesn't hold out long, but it lasts long enough for the both of them to be out of breath by the end of it. He suddenly trips and fails to keep his balance, groaning as he hits the ground. He never lets go of his wrist, however, curling around it in a weak attempt to protect it.

Reg rushes to his side again, intending to help him up, to see what's wrong, to see if he's hurt; but the boy lifts his face off the ground, his eyes turned up to the older man, and his horrified stare slams Reg in the gut. The kid starts whimpering, and his voice is weak and small and...young.  
"Please don't touch me... Please.... I can't... I can't..."  
His voice cracks, and the kid squeezes his eyes shut, tries to speak again; but his voice won't come out. So he looks up at Reg again, just keeps staring at him with huge pleading eyes, his quivering jaws clenched shut.

Time to step back and correctly assess the situation. Reg retreats while slowly lifting his hands up, showing that he means no harm. The kid makes no attempt to escape again, helpless and lying on the frozen ground, dark pupils fully blown in his wide green eyes. Reg is hit by a sudden realization.  
The blood. How could he not have noticed that? The stains are now clearly visible in the snow, on the clothes, on the face. The kid's face is wrecked. How old is he? 12? 13?  
With as much calm as he can muster, in the quietest voice possible, Reg tries to find the right words.  
"I'm not going to do anything to you."

The kid just keeps staring. Reg tries again.  
"I swear."

The boy's stare doesn't flicker. If anything, it grows heavier.  
Reg withstands the scrutiny.  
Time stretches, the dull green gaze latched on Reg's gray eyes.

Then the kid's mouth moves, silently, quietly, and the words become audible.

"Please sir, leave. I... I can manage by myself." He lowers his eyes, staring at the snow. A shiver seizes up his body, but his voice is firmer as he repeats himself. "Please, mister. Please leave. I-" He swallows. "I can manage by myself."

Reg doesn't move a muscle, he doesn't answer. What is he supposed to say? He has no idea how he's supposed to react. What should he do? Why is he even hesitating so much?  
The kid doesn't move either, his eyes trained on Reg's face.

Reg decides to step back.  
The kid watches him, staying very still.

Reg takes another step back.  
The boy's eyes follow him.

Reg takes another step.  
And another.  
And another.  
Stops.  
Waits.

The kid seems to understand that Reg isn't backing up any more than he already has. His good arm moves slowly, his gaze still cautious and entirely focused on Reg, wary for any signs of reaction.  
He brings his knees under him, jerks to a stop. Reg doesn't make a move.  
The kid sluggishly gets back up to his feet, wobbling slightly as he unfolds his body, and regains his balance. His wary eyes are still riveted on Reg as his arm lifts back up to cradle his wrist.  
He backs up slowly, carefully. Reg doesn't try to stop him.  
The boy's shoes leave one footprint.  
Two footprints.  
Three.  
Then the kid darts around the corner, and he's gone.  
Reg is left behind, staring at the shape of the kid's feet printed in the snow.  
Alone.

Wondering what the fuck just happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me if you would like to have more chapters. I'm not gonna lie, I'm really proud of this and I'd love to give you the next chapter, if you want it. (I really hope you do, tbh)


	2. Chasing Visions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regrets aren't easy to get rid of.

Reg thinks about that night all the time.  
It's like... it's like every evening, during his midnight stroll, the wide green eyes come to haunt his thoughts and regrets. A young, terrified and wary gaze which won't let go of his mind.  
It's like this for days, weeks, months. He'll be walking down a dirty street and the boy's face will spring to his mind, just like that. The frequency of this occurence dwindles in time, but it's still there.  
A bad feeling lingers in Reg's heart. It's like he did something utterly wrong. He feels like a piece of shit, he feels like he's wronged that kid, like he's betrayed his best friend or brother or son or something. But they don't even know each other. They've never met before, not that Reg knows.  
He just feels like... Well, he doesn't really know. This longing feeling is something he rarely, if ever, feels in his lone heart.

Reg caught himself hoping, several times during his patrolling, that he'd see the boy.  
He really wants to make it better.  
He has no idea why he wants to apologize so much.  
He still has no idea why he wants to make up for what he's done.

But he hasn't done anything! He's not the one who hurt the kid's wrist! He wanted to help, the kid refused, right?  
No, wrong, and Reg knows it. He should've insisted. That gaze... Definitely not a normal kid's.  
But what was he supposed to do at that time? He couldn't have dragged the kid around, kicking and screaming, right?  
Of course the kid hadn't been in any state to make a fuss. He'd been frozen. Terrified. Hurt.  
It was utterly and despairingly wrong. A 13 year old with that kind of look in his eyes... Wrong. So wrong.  
He was bleeding, for fuck's sake. From... from his face, but he probably had some injuries under his clothes. After all, he had been holding his wrist lower than his chest, which meant he had probably gotten hurt in the stomach too. Reg just wishes he had been a bit more forceful, wishes he had helped that kid.

Sometimes, Reg spends the whole day on his couch, looking up at the dusty ceiling of his empty living room. He's supposed to be reading, a book in his hand, but really he doesn't feel like it, so the book is just dangling from his arm. When it's those kind of days, Mizzie, sweet and fluffy Mizzie, meows when he wakes up, meows when he goes to sleep, just wants him to quit worrying. She doesn't want to see him in this state. It makes her feel bad, too.  
So Reg soothes her, petting her little head. But her clear eyes won't let go of his.

When Jin, good old associate and friend Jin, comes by to check on him, or when Reg goes to hang out with him, it's always the same conversation that comes around at some point. Patient and pragmatic Jin tells him to stop this unhealthy obsession with a kid Reg doesn't even know about, and to concentrate on what he's doing. Concentrate on your patrols, he says. You'll meet him again when fate decides that it's the right time.  
Reg knows that Jin is right. Jin's always been the kind of guy who knows. But it still bothers him.  
He still feels guilty.

Why did he leave after the kid disappeared? Rather, why didn't he follow the kid?  
Maybe the kid wasn't even alive anymore.  
Those eyes, deep green mottled with dull gold, filled with pure, primal fear. They were there, in Reg's mind, burned in his brain. He couldn't forget them.  
If the kid was dead, it was Reg's fault. It was very pessimistic thinking, but... everything was possible in this city. Or rather, in a more realistic phrasing, nothing was too horrible for it to happen.

Reg never met the kid again, for one year, two years, three years. Life just went on, nothing really changed, but... Reg felt like that night had been some kind of checkpoint. A checkpoint he had to return to. A checkpoint he had to restart the level from, because he'd messed up somewhere along the lines.

Sometimes, when they feel like it, both he and Jin go for a drink in the middle of the night. Jin tells him that no, it's not like that, that Reg's ramblings are just wishful thinking. Then he downs his glass, waiting for Reg's predictable answer. It's always the same.  
Reg tells him in a hushed voice that he can't stop thinking about it. That... he should have done something. That this feeling won't leave his side; that this is a gut feeling.  
Jin doesn't answer. What's the point of it anyway? Both of them know that Reg's guts never lie.  
They just continue drinking wordlessly, in silent companionship. The warm, musty bar is their own quiet little world.

Reg feels like that kid was a missing piece that he'd found and lost right away.  
He gradually comes to acknowledge the small gap at the back of his mind, and sometimes he can feel a sort of emptiness in his chest.  
Reg needs to see him again.  
Something tells him they were meant to meet.  
It's a gut feeling.

Reg hopes, strongly, that the kid is okay: that the city hasn't claimed his mind, his spirit, or his corpse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin.  
> You got to meet Jin in this chapter for the first time, as well as Mizzie: they're pretty important characters in this story, and you'll have guessed it, they're both very close to Reg. You'll find that I'm really quite fond of Jin and I hope that it will become the case for you as well.  
> Thanks for reading, leave a comment if you feel like it!


	3. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reg finally finds what he was looking for.

Reg shuts down his computer, and looks down at Mizzie, scratching her chin. The cat understands and unfurls from his lap, stretching and fluffing out her gray fur before jumping down on the tiled floor of the small, empty kitchen.  
Reg stretches, checks the clock. Time to go. The soft sound of Mizzie's padding paws follows him as he puts on his trench coat and army boots, but she stays wisely put in the warm house as the door closes behind him.

It's late in the evening, the first stars appearing in the bruising sky, but not as late as he usually likes his nightly walk to be. The sharpness of the cold makes every little detail more focused, the air is thin, and he can feel a collective sigh of lassitude as darkness lays down upon the whole city.  
Tonight, Jin's asked him to patrol down another territory, different from his regular district. Reg doesn't know why he has to change patrolling areas, Jin doesn't gives details unless there's an actual need for it; but he's got some kind of idea about it. Probably linked to another gang fight over this piece of district. Reg makes his way to his new area, time flowing by his side, his eyes pensive but his ears still alert for any signs of trouble. He likes this, just walking around in the cold, late night, like he owns the place. It's like it's always winter during nights in Crocuta City.

Finally reaching his destination, he starts weaving around old, sunken tenements and moldy inns, inspecting the walls and judging distances, locations, heights.  
Venturing in another alley, his ears pick up the typical sounds of an overheated argument, yelling, scuffling, smacking. The loud signs of the wrestling lead his feet as he weaves around the buildings, closer and closer to the disturbance.  
Turning around the corner of a decrepit hostel, he finally encounters the source of all the noise: a tall, lean man yelling and kicking the bushes growing along the wall, the slurring of his words, tense body and angry limbs indicating: "I'm drunk and violent and I have absolutely no control over my fucking mind right now". Reg tunes in as the underlying tone of the man's menacing voice gets hysterical.  
"You little shit! You think you can do what you want, you bitch? Next time I swear I'll fucking tear you apart! You hear me? You fucking disgusting piece of crap!"  
"Hey!" Reg calls out as he nears the man, who finally notices that he's not alone as his head swivels in Reg's general direction. His features aren't really distinguishable in the dark, but it's pretty obvious his face is distorted with crazy drunken rage. "Shit", he mutters, and gives a final kick in the bushes before slinking away.

No idea why, but Reg's tempted to go after him and punch him right in the fucking face. Random thoughts about murder happen sometimes, who's there to judge anyway?  
But he stops dead in his tracks as he passes the bushes, because something tells him the bushes are important. The bushes. Right, because someone was beaten in there. He should check on them.  
As he pushes the bushes apart, he finds a smaller man lying amongst them, curled up and covering his face. Stepping closer to the sobbing man and kneeling down next to him, Reg reaches out. "Hey man, you okay?"  
As he touches the other man's shoulder, he feels him flinch and sudden wailing fills the air.  
"No! No! Noooo! NOOOO!" The man struggles wildly, punching and kicking at invisible ennemies.  
Reg tries catching the flailing arms. "Hey, calm down man, it's o-"  
The shrieks only get more desperate, the man pulling on his trapped arm. "NO! N-NOOO! LET GO OF ME! I-I DON'T WANT IT!" His voice strains, decomposing in frantic sobs as he tries to crawl away. "I'm sorry, I'm s-sorry, I-I won't do it again, I-I-I'm, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry", he keeps repeating over and over again, a terrified mantra that sounds horribly wrong to Reg's ears. Suddenly the man's limbs give and he collapses, just lies there, shaken by soft sobs and whimpers, his face hidden behind one bruised arm. Reg tries again, tries to make himself understood. His voice is gentle as he placates the man. "Hey, come on man, I'm not going to do anything to you. I promise, okay?" He feels the man's body tense up. Reg repeats, his words finally seem to make sense to the shaking man. "I'm not going to do anything to you."  
The man holds his breath, the occasional hiccup rocking his body, but he doesn't move or  
Something flutters in Reg's gut.  
He can feel it, there's....  
There's....  
Something...

"...Hey." No answer. "Hey, kid. Let me see your face."  
He's got this undescribable feeling of certainty, blood pounding in his ears. This is the boy. And his gut feelings are never, ever wrong.  
The guy won't budge, but Reg makes out the shape of his body now that he's not moving.  
Awfully small, but definitely a teenager.  
Reg has to see the eyes. "Kid, if you don't move your arms I'm doing it myself."  
Arm pressing harder against his face, the kid starts whimpering again. "I'm, no, I'm sorry! I don't want to, please sir, leave me alone. L-leave me alone, please..." The kid draws in a shuddering breath, "I... I can manage by myself."  
The knot in Reg's throat drops down to the pit of his stomach. His heart is beating hard.  
"Kid." He slowly, gently touches the boy's hand. There's a slight flinch at that. "I think we've met before. Please show me your face."  
The trembling arm withsdraws, revealing the kid's face. His eyes are wide and fearful as he stares at Reg: foggy green and gold, gleaming with anxiety and pain.  
His face is a mess: covered in bruises, marred with drying blood and tears and snot, cut lips and swelling right eye. His eyes dart to the ground.  
"Do you.... Do you recognize me?" It's a stupid question, Reg knows it is, but he's not one to go against instinct. This has to be the boy he saw all that time ago. It's not like eyes that distinctive of a color are a common thing.  
The boy's stare is a bit off as it moves towards Reg, and he's not quite making eye contact. He doesn't really react to Reg's question.

Reg tells himself he might be able to make this right again. The kid might not have said yes, but he's not saying no, either.  
"Look, kid, it's fine if you don't. I just don't want to let you leave this time, so you're coming with me."  
The boy moves in a somewhat sitting position, and just... stares. Stares somewhere under the ground, but there's nothing there. His pupils are dilated and he's shaking like a leaf, about to break in a million cold little pieces. His way of reacting is just not quite right, and Reg wonders if the boy is some kind of junkie.  
Reg silently watches him for a while, then stands up. The boy flinches, a very faint sound escaping his lips, and the man quickly apologizes. "Sorry, sorry. I'm just going to give you something warmer than that... sweater. If you can call that a sweater." The boy just keeps looking at the pink tinged snow, his whole body quaking. Reg takes off his coat – shit that's cold – and hands it to the kid.  
"Take it," gestures Reg towards the boy. "You need help putting it on?"  
The boy's hand twitches, but that's the extent of his reaction. Shit. Reg just has the time to register that the kid isn't really there when something in the boy's eyes just goes -click- and he slumps forward.  
"Oh fuck," swears Reg just before catching the kid. His body has gone kind of limp, so Reg has to push him upright to wrap his coat around the thin shoulders. The eyes are completely unfocused, a faint shimmer covers his forehead and his nose has started bleeding again. This really doesn't look good. The kid seems pretty drugged up and aside from giving him shelter, Reg can't do much about it. He'd call Jin to check, but Jin would never want to come for a perfect stranger, no matter how dire their situation. Reg doesn't even know himself why he's picking this mess up or why he feels so concerned about the boy.  
It's easy to carry him. So much easier than Reg had expected, the kid so very light and small and scrawny. Aside from the twitch that jerks his whole body when Reg picks him up, the kid doesn't move.  
He's young. So young.

Reg turns and starts making his way back to his house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin.  
> You probably guessed from the title what was going to happen. So... Hm. Got my results from my exams. Turned out swell.  
> Also, please tell me what you thought about this chapter. I'd really, really love to have feedback. Really.  
> Thanks for reading, leave a comment if you feel like it!


	4. True Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boy wakes up and Reg is a bit taken aback by the way he acts.

When they arrive at his doorstep, Reg shifts the kid's weight in his arms, holding him up with one arm. As he opens the door, he realizes how uneven the boy's breathing is, sweat shimmering on the nape of his bent head. Even through the coat, Reg can tell that the kid feels feverishly hot. He has to get him in a bed ASAP.  
Reg picks him up again and hurries to his room; Mizzie follows close, her whiskers interrogating the newcomer. Reg looks down to catch his cat's gaze and whispers. "Mizzie, close the door for me." The cat obediently turns tail to press the switch, and Reg smiles at her. "Good girl." The cat just blinks once.

The kid's shivering intensifies and as Reg lowers him on the bed, his eyes crack open.  
"Hey. Are you feeling alright? Are you cold?" murmures Reg, unsure of how to act. The kid doesn't seem to care about what's happening around him, but at the very least he's sitting up on his own. "Okay, well... I just want to make sure you're okay."  
No reaction.  
"Can I... check your temperature?"  
No reaction.  
"Um, okay then." Reg's hand slowly lifts up to the kid's forehead, and suddenly the green eyes snap into focus and he jerks away from the hand.  
"Woah, okay, okay, not touching you!" Reg lifts his hands up and backs away. "Not touching you." The kid stills, his breathing heavy, his eyes lowered.  
"Um, okay, look kid. I want to help you, I really do. I can't if you're scared of me all the time, though. I need you to be less jumpy around me." Pause. "Do you understand?"  
No reaction.  
Reg purses his lips. This isn't going to work. The boy's not even listening. He's probably lost, scared, hurt, tired... All the bad things. "Look at me." Reg's trying his damn hardest to have the gentlest voice he's ever used in his whole life. He watches, patiently, waiting, expecting a reaction from the kid. He repeats slowly, quietly, "Look at me, kid. I'm not going to do anything to you."  
At these words, the boy's eyes start darting around and looking at anything but Reg's face.  
"Please, look me in the eye."  
He does. Hesitantly, but he does. His hands convulsively squeeze his... shirt? Sweater? It's kind of tattered, so Reg can't tell.  
Softly, Reg speaks the words he thinks will reassure the lost boy. "You're safe here. No one wants to hurt you. Okay?" The kid's eyes are wary and unsure, searching for something in Reg's own, who withstands the intensity of his gaze as time stretches out. The boy's shoulders sag, he starts falling forward and Reg has to steady him to avoid another uneeded injury; the contact elicits a violent twitch from the boy, so Reg makes him lie down on the mattress. Reg hesitates only a short second, but decides against changing the boy's clothes. Can't have him freaking out. Reg is pretty sure waking up half naked with a grown man hovering above the bed is not something anyone would like. He isn't risking it. He draws the sheets over the quaking body, hoping for the boy to fall asleep fast. The kid will have to be washed tomorrow. If he's in a well enough state to be washed by then... and if he can talk. Reg should call Jin.

He makes a quick detour in the kitchen to get a drink from the sink. The tap water feels like liquid heaven as it runs down his throat. He should get a glass for the kid, too. Right.  
He feels like he forgot something again.

Once the glass is set on the floor next to the kid, Reg makes his way out of the bedroom to the living room, intending to sleep on the couch. A thought suddenly crosses his mind and the shuffling of his feet stops. He can't leave the kid alone in that room. What if something happens? Yeah, it's him being paranoid and all, but... Turning back to get all that's needed to sleep on the floor, Reg calls to his cat over his shoulder. "Mizzie, you can sleep with us if you want. Your choice." Mizzie's right ear flicks, and she sets to cleaning herself up.  
Reg enters the room silently, leaving the door open, throws all his stuff on the floor and checks again if the kid is still asleep. His eyes are closed, his breathing has evened out. Good.  
___

Reg wakes up early the next morning, so early the sun is still hidden behind the other side of the Earth, to the feeling of hard ground underneath his side and to the sound of someone shifting and trashing around in the bed on... the other... side of the room? What? He groggily sits up, wiping the string of saliva from his mouth and noticing Mizzie's tail turn around the corner. So she slept with him.  
Right, he remembers, the kid. The kid's in the bed.

Reg is up and at the bedside in a second, and notices blood staining the pillow. The kid is getting completely tangled in the bedsheets, his arms wild and frantic as he tries to free himself. Grabbing the boy's flailing wrists, he pins them down on either side of the pillow.  
"Hey, wake up!"  
Reg notices the eyes darting around under the eyelids, the pale sweat covered face, the furrowed eyebrows, the nosebleed. The kid moans as one tear slides down to his ear.  
"Wake UP!" repeats Reg, a little forcefully.  
The eyes crack open, foggy with tears and nightmares, mere slits in a pale, tired face.  
Suddenly the eyes widen and Reg quickly lets the kid go before he understands what's happening, taking a step back. Panting heavily, the kid blinks a few times, swallows, gasps, swallows again and looks at Reg. For a second. Then he hastily sits up, flinching instantly in pain.  
"Owwwww....." he moans, huddling up and holding his stomach.  
"Hey, you okay?" Reg asks, still standing a feet or so away from the bed.  
Kid looks up, assessing the grown man before him, the room, and back at the man. His eyes are full of pain and distrust. He's fully awake.  
"What do _you_ want? Who are you?" he snarls, glaring at Reg.

Suddenly he seems way older then Reg had thought he was. His voice isn't as defenseless and broken as last night. It's softer and deeper, much more guarded and full of underlying tension. The kid just aged a few years right in front of Reg. It's not the same boy from yesterday. Reg understands that the boy doesn't remember what happened the night before, and his hands fly up.  
"Woah, calm down. You're in my home right now. And that's my bed you're sitting on," he points at the bed with one finger, "You were pretty messed up last night. Still are, if I were to-"  
The kid tries to get up. "You're not keeping me here," he hisses, hate seeping through his tense body.  
Reg attempts to stop him, reaching out to him. "Wait, don't move-"  
"Don't _touch me_!" Reg jerks away. The kid's eyes are seething with rage and pain.  
"What are you going to do to me?" growls the younger man. Reg can nearly see the kid's hackles raising.

Reg stares in disbelief, feeling his own eyes widen and exclaims,"Dude, I am not going to do _anything_ to you! You need to calm the fuck down!"  
Reg sees recognition dawning in the boy's eyes, so he immediately asks: "Do you remember me?"  
The boy's eyes flicker, but he holds up his gaze and keeps glaring, remaining silent.  
"I mean, from years ago... Maybe you don't remember me from that long ago."  
The kid growls. "I've met you before."  
"Yes!" exclaims Reg happily. "You have!"  
"But that doesn't mean anything. I'm leaving."  
"No wait, you can't go yet! Just... Stay a bit. I want to talk with you, you owe me at least that. I saved your ass. You know how this city goes."  
The kid smirks a humorless smirk, which does nothing to wipe away the constant glare. "Yeah, I do, but you didn't "save" me. This is basically abduction. I don't think I owe you shit."  
Silence stretches out between them, Reg not daring to move and the kid clearly unwilling to make things any easier. He considers the kid's position: tense, grasping his clothes, eyebrows still furrowed. He can feel that the boy's still affected by confusion, anger and anxiety; the emotions are rolling off his body in waves.

"So..." Reg starts again, "You want to stay here a little bit?" Hate and distrust flare back up in the boy's burning eyes. "No, okay, look man," Reg continues, "I know you're having a hard time trusting me and I understand that, I mean we're in this shithole of a city where everyone wants to rape, steal, and kill each other; I'm a grown man and you're a kid, you're feeling suspicious of me and I totally get it. But I'm not letting you go back to wherever you come from. Not like that."  
The kid frowns. "I'm not a kid."  
Reg lifts his eyebrows at that. "How old are you, 17? I don't remember exactly when was the last time I saw you."  
The kid grits his teeth. "Why should I tell you?"  
"Look... I..." Reg feels lost. What is he even supposed to say? "I... I know it sounds really weird and creepy, but.... I actually...." He sighs, takes a deep breath. "I think I should've intervened earlier. Years earlier to be precise, when we first met. And I've... I've honestly been worried about you ever since." The kid just raises one eyebrow. Clearly he's wondering what the fuck he's going on about. "Yeah I know, it's creepy but I can't help it, okay? And... It's just.... Well, I care about you, and I'm afraid about what'll happen if I let you go now. Of course, you don't have to believe it. You don't have to stay either. It's your choice. But I really do want to help you."

The kid just stares, never lowering his guard and staying utterly silent; but the older man can see that he's thinking. The silence stretches out again, and it gets more and more awkward as time goes by. He tries to come up with something, anything to break the silence and escape the growing intensity of the green gaze pinning him where he stands. "Uh... Do you want to take a bath, mayb-"  
"What's your name, old man?" interrupts the kid.  
"Reg. What's yours?" Reg stares expectantly at the boy, but the latter doesn't answer. "Come on, I just told you my name, you can tell me yours, right? It's only fair."  
"I don't exactly play by the rules, old man." His tone is deliberately provocative.  
"I just gave you my name, why are you still calling me that?"  
"Because that's what you are."  
"No, I'm not."  
"How old are you?"  
"I'm not telling you. I have nothing on you and you already know my name."  
"Okay, I get that," concedes the kid. He looks down at his hands, pauses. Doesn't speak again. It seems he is trying to figure something out. The anger within him is slowly dying down.  
"So, about that offer... Do you want to wash yourself?" tries Reg again.  
The boy raises his head back up. His expression is neutral, but Reg can sense that the boy is still feeling very confused. There's a short moment of silence, and then he nods. Surprised that it was that easy to get the boy back on reasonable speaking terms, Reg spins around with the intention of preparing a bath, but he stops in his tracks when the boy calls out to him. "Reg?"  
"Yeah?"  
"Are you saying I should trust you?" There's the furrowed eyebrow again.  
"No. I'm not saying you have to. It would just be better if you did. Maybe you'll trust me later, I don't know, but it would be easier for both of us. I guess." The boy doesn't move, but he's hesitating, and after a short silence Reg decides to give him a little push. "What is it, kid?"  
The boy looks away, opens his mouth to say something, decides against it, opens it again.  
"Reg, my name... Stop calling me kid." The boy frowns, staring at his hands, then breathes out and shakes his head. "Never mind. It's nothing."  
"...All right."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin.  
> Yep. I'm not really sure about where I'm going with the details of this story, but I do already have the general plot planned out. Again, please don't hold back with the feedback.  
> Thanks for reading, leave a comment if you feel like it!


	5. His Name

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boy tries to understand what's going on, Reg tries to get the boy clean.

The boy sits still on the bed, his hands in his lap. The room is quiet now that Reg's gone, and that gives him the luxury to think.  
He was about to give Reg his name just then, and he can't really understand why. Is it because he's too tired to even be wary of the man? Is it because he's hurting too much? Maybe he hit his head yesterday, and now he can't think straight.  
But no, that's not it. The thing is, Reg seems pretty inoffensive for an adult who picked a boy off the streets, supposedly with no ulterior motives. Not bad ones, at any rate. Of course, the key word being "seems"; it could all be a facade so that he'd let his guard down, something he'd almost done by giving away his name.  
But here's the thing: his instincts don't mark Reg as dangerous, which goes against the way it usually works. Why isn't this man dangerous?  
Are his usual defenses down? His instincts can't have suddenly disappeared, right? There's only been one man, until now, that's never been marked as dangerous, and he turned out to be trash. Maybe it's happening again... Maybe his instincts are failing him again.  
No, this is different. It's not like that time. Reg isn't just "not dangerous". He's... "good". That man had been "nothing".

The boy feels dreariness weigh down his bones and he tries to rub his eyes, but the movement makes him wince. He gives up, cursing softly as his arm falls back down. "Asshole really did a number on me."  
He feels so tired, so hurt. His eyes catch the glass next to his bed, full of transparent liquid that he hadn't noticed before. His guard is instantly up and his head whips around, the pain momentarily forgotten as he scans the room. Nothing seems out of place, and when he tries to listen closely to the sounds around him, he can only hear water running. He doesn't hear or see anyone else than Reg, who seems to be shuffling around in the bathroom.  
His eyes lower to stare at the drink again, and after a few seconds he decides against touching the glass, despite his thirst. He doesn't know what it is, and he doesn't want to check. A thought crosses his mind as he longingly gazes at the liquid. How long has it been since he's tasted pure water?  
He sits there for a while, the room silent around him, and he feels his eyelids drooping, heavy with the weight of last night's events and general bad sleep. He gives in and closes his eyes, but wards off the sleepiness menacing to engulf him. He stays upright on the stained sheets and tries to reflect on his situation, despite his swirling thoughts and foggy mind. The pain is a spiking ache in his body, bumping against his muscles and his bones, a pain he's become used to over the years.

___

 

Once the water has reached the right level, Reg turns off the faucet and stands up, stretching his back before heading out of the bathroom to get the kid. Upon entering the bedroom, he notices that the boy is still sitting on the bed and that his eyes are closed, but they fly open before Reg can even make the boy aware of his presence. It's almost creepy how the kid is constantly wary, and he briefly wonders if the kid ever lets up. "Hey, the bath is ready. Get up and go while I clean this mess up."  
The boy stays put. "I don't think I will."  
"Well..." Reg shoots him a confused look. "Didn't you say you wanted to get clean?" Then it hits him. He'd forgotten how beat up the kid was last night, because he wasn't showing any clear signs of discomfort. "Getting up too painful for you?"  
The kid throws him a scornful smirk. "Gee, _Reg_ , how did you notice?"  
Reg sighs and steps in the room. "All right, all right, you don't have to be like that. You're just hiding it too well. You need me to pull you up then?" He stops walking when a hand is lifted up to his face, and the boy is glaring at him.  
"Don't get any closer. I don't know what you might try to pull."  
Reg holds in another sigh. "So what, you're gonna carry yourself to the bathroom? You don't have much of a choice, you know." He takes another step towards the boy who just keeps glaring at him, but doesn't try to move back.  
"I do have a choice, I'll just wait for the pain to pass and go when I feel better."  
"Right, and you're going to stink up the place in the meantime." Reg crosses his arms, his eyebrows lifted in a sarcastic manner. "I'd rather not, it is my place after all."  
The boy's stare grows sharper, no doubt annoyed at the mention of his smell. "Fuck off. I don't need your help." He slowly pushes himself off the bed, and when his feet hit the floor, pain shoots up his legs, making him stumble. Reg catches him by the arm, and the boy jerks slightly at the touch, but it's gone so fast that he almost doesn't notice.  
"Sorry. I didn't think you'd be so good at pretending not to hurt." Reg pauses, sticking his arm out for support. "Here, try leaning on me." After a short moment of reflexion, he adds: "You know, you don't have to pretend if you can help it."  
The boy refuses to look him in the eye, but he does place his hand on the offered arm without a word. Reg hears the sharp intake of breath and the sudden palor of the boy's face when he takes a step forward, but he doesn't comment on it. He just hovers close to the kid, lending his arm without touching him.

They slowly advance towards the bathroom, one step after another, but Reg can see the kid's stamina is starting to wear out. His jaws are clenching so hard Reg can see the muscles there tremble. His forehead growing increasingly humid with sweat, pain flitters across his face ever so often. Reg stops their progress.  
"I don't get why you're trying to pretend this doesn't hurt, and I may look dumb enough to believe it, but I want this to be the less painful possible. So I'm going to put my arm around you and you're going to put your arm around my shoulders. Do you mind?"  
The kid is catching his breath so he just shoots Reg a confused look. So Reg precises: "Do you mind me touching you, I mean."  
The kid frowns. "How do you...?" Now that Reg mentions it, he realizes that the older man has avoided touching him since he woke up. How had he not noticed that?  
"Last night you kept freaking out about it. And I caught that twitch earlier."  
"Oh," the kid answers, avoiding Reg's eyes. "Right. Um..." He looks flustered.  
Reg does his best to reassure him. "It's okay, everyone has their weakness."  
The kid's head snaps up and he snarls at the man. "I'm not weak, asshole."  
"I didn't say that like that. So, do you want to try?"  
"No. I can do this without your help."  
"Okay." Reg doesn't want to force the boy, but he still feels like he's being unecessarily stubborn. 

When they finally reach the bathroom, Reg helps him sit down on the closed toilet seat, letting him catch his breath.  
"Okay, now do your business. I'll be just outside if you need something, just call me."  
Reg notices the boy's eyes suddenly focusing on something behind Reg's back, his mouth shaping a question before he can stop it. "You have a cat?"  
Reg turns around, and sees Mizzie chilling out in the corridor. "Yeah." Then a thought crosses his mind and he turns back to the boy. "Is that a problem?"  
"No, no, I'm cool with cats. I like them, actually." The kid looks really interested by her.  
Reg smiles. "That's nice to know. Her name's Mizzie, by the way."  
The kid looks up at Reg and immediately starts frowning again. "Stop smiling. You're creeping me out." Reg's smile drops right away.  
"Well okay then, I'll just go while you wash yourself, yeah?"  
"Yeah, go away."

Ten minutes later, Reg has finished throwing the bloody sheets to the washing machine, folding his own into something seemingly tidy. All the while that he keeps himself busy, there's a floaty feeling at the back of his mind that he forgot to do something, but he doesn't really know what. Mizzie follows his steps around the house as he tidies some more things, keeping an ear out for the sound of sloshing water. After a few more minutes, the lack of sound coming from the bathroom tells him something isn't right. He walks to the door and knocks while he calls out. "Hey man, you okay in there?"  
"Um... No...." The voice is a bit faint, so Reg can't help but feel a bit worried.  
"Do you need help, maybe?"  
".... Yeah, I can't really take off my sweater alone." Ah, so it's a sweater.  
"Do you mind if I come in?"  
The kid doesn't answer.  
"I'm coming in," calls Reg as he opens the door.  
The kid has moved from the toilet seat, sitting on the bathroom's floor, his back against the bathtub. Visibly worn out, his breathing is a bit laboured and the only thing that's changed about his clothes is that his sweater is halfway off.  
"Are you okay with me seeing you half naked?"  
"Don't care, just help me."  
"Okay. Lift your arms up, I'll try to be swift." The boy obeys, his face briefly filled with pain during the moment Reg has to tug off the sweater, and then he doubles over groaning. "Ugh, owww... He hit me... really hard."  
Unable to hide the concern on his face, Reg peers at the space behind the kid's arms. What he sees isn't very pretty. "Kid, can you show me your stomach real quick?"  
The kid in question flashes him a death glare. "No."  
Reg's frowns at that. "Why not?"  
"Because I don't want to, _Reg_. You're asking a yes/no question, you should expect both answers."  
"Okay then, not a question. Show me your stomach, please."  
"I don't want to."  
"You're being a pain in the ass. If I don't check, the hospital will do it for me."  
Eyes suddenly widening, the kid grabs Reg's arm, ignoring the pain it causes him to do so. "No, don't call the hospital!" Then, realizing how surprised Reg is at his reaction, he tries to justify his reaction. "I... Besides, it's expensive, right? It's not worth going. Why would you want to bring me there?"  
"I wasn't serious about the hospital, kid. We won't go, but I'd really like to know what state your stomach is in. I'm not asking you much, just take your arms away so I can see."  
"...Fine."

The arms withdraw, revealing the deep shade of bruising purple covering the boy's stomach. Reg can't help but wince at the sight, although he's seen so much worse before.  
As if reading his thoughts, the boy glares at him. "Come on Reg, don't be such a wuss. There's worse than this going on around here. It doesn't even hurt that much."  
"I know, but...." Reg thinks better than following his train of thought, because reminding the kid that he's young is just going to piss him off. Again. "Never mind."  
The bruise probably looks worse than it is. Had the damage reached an organ, the boy would be in a worse state than the one he is in right now. He just wishes he could touch his stomach to see if it was swollen and hard, as Jin taught him to do, but right now he has to base his observations on mere sight.  
The boy's unrelenting glare makes him feel uneasy, and he awkwardly tries to change the subject. "So... Can you get in the shower alone? I mean, with you hurting and all.... Okay, I get the message, I'll leave you alone."

But as his hand lands on the door's handle, he speaks again. "Kid... I know you're thinking that I'm strange, but... I mean, even I myself don't know why... I just know that I want you to be better, I think. To be safe? See, even I don't fully understand the situation."  
"My name's Illyan." The abrupt line surprises both of them, Reg because at first he doesn't get what he just heard, the boy because the words escaped his lips before he could stop them. It feels like he's just dived in cold water, and it feels somehow liberating. Like he can breathe again.  
"Illyan, huh." Reg turns back to smile at him, and the boy doesn't know if he should feel creeped out or reassured. He doesn't like it when people smile at him, especially when they're saying his name out loud, but this doesn't disturb him quite as much as it should.  
"...No. Call me Lyan." The boy's words rush out before he can stop them. "Don't get me wrong, I only gave you my name becausee you're kind to me." He suddenly seems to realize what he just said and his eyes narrow again. "Forget what I just said."  
"How am I supposed to forget that? I finally have your name," questions Reg.  
"Just don't use it, okay? Lyan's fine." The boy takes a deep breath and starts tugging his socks off, wincing at the pain in his muscles. "Okay, now get out. I want some privacy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin.  
> Lots of thanks for the kudos, all of you. It always feels good to know that my work is appreciated. I hope you'll be sticking around for a while!  
> Thanks for reading, leave a comment if you feel like it!


	6. Pink Tinge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyan tries to clear his mind from his confusion, Reg tries to avoid making any blunders.  
> They're both failing.

Finally managing to peel off his remaining clothes, Lyan half-heartedly throws the garments to the side and lets his arm drop by his side, catching his breath. The only sounds mingling in the room are the gentle lapping of the water behind him and his own laboured breathing as he waits for the pain to subside. It takes a while to muster the will to, but his hand grips the side of the tub and he pulls himself up with a grunt. For one worrying moment, he feels his head turn and almost loses his hold on the tub's edge, but then everything goes back to normal. He stays there, bending over the water and waiting for his body to cooperate fully with his mind, until he feels like he can move without toppling over. He shouldn't have sat down there for so long.  
With some difficulty, he climbs into the bath and lowers himself in the now warm water, keeping an ear out for any sign of footsteps outside the bathroom. He's noticed that the bathroom has a lock, but it needs a key so he can't close himself in; which means he has to watch out for anyone coming. For a flitting moment he wishes the water could be scalding hot to burn away everything on his skin, and maybe his skin itself, but the soothing feeling of warmth spreading through his body makes him breathe a sigh of relief. He's unable to hold it back, this feels like pure bliss. It's been so long since he's been allowed such a treatment.

He frowns. Why is he allowed this kind of luxury in the first place?  
He feels like he's letting his guard down way too often around the old man, but it's just that Reg is so... calm. Usually when Lyan snaps at an adult, they don't take it too kindly, but Reg? He doesn't do anything. He barely reacts to insults, compared to the usual men Lyan gets to see (not counting the junkies and other stone-cold bodies lying around the streets).  
And he's so cautious around him, too. Others don't usually care about what Lyan feels like or what he wants, because it doesn't matter. So why is Reg acting so nice?  
Nice acts don't work for Lyan, on any other occasion he's able to see right through it, he's able to see what dark and dirty intentions lie behind it. But there's nothing dark and dirty about Reg.  
And if Lyan can't see anything wrong behind Reg's actions, then Reg isn't dangerous.  
Then Reg is genuinely being nice.  
And it's not that superficial kindness Lyan knows from that man that felt like nothing, because Reg's presence actually feels somewhat reassuring.  
Why?  
Why is it like this?

Lyan shakes his head, wincing as pain shoots up his neck. He doesn't like thinking about this. He doesn't like not understanding.  
He sets to scrub his dirt-covered arms, his skin grimey with blood and dust and other things he'd rather not think too much about. How did Reg even manage to walk so close to him in the hallway? He knows that he stinks, that he's so dirty the smell probably rubbed off on the old man. As he tries to understand, he feels something inside him flicker to life. The new feeling surprises Lyan, and he stops moving, eyes widening. Is he feeling.... hope?  
It can't be. No, he's probably tired and his mind is playing tricks on him. There's no way he's hoping for something from that man. No way. He frowns, trying to smother the feeling to nothingness, but it stays there and he can hear his heart beating a bit faster now. "No way."  
He'd thought he'd banned those feelings from his heart long ago. He'd thought that they'd never come back. Yet here he is, feeling a worthless feeling of hope, and wishing his heart had never woken up. He doesn't want to hope. It hurts to hope.  
Besides, why would anyone care?  
Why would Reg care?

No, Reg doesn't care, Lyan tries to convince himself. He tries to erase that thought, and barely manages to repress it. This is new, this is big, this isn't him. Lyan doesn't think like that, never.

Why did he even blurt out his name? He could've given him a fake name, any name, but it seems his brain has decided not to cooperate this time.

Lyan tries to clear his mind of the raging confusion that has made its home there and gets back to washing his body. It's not too painful, the warm water helping a great deal in loosening his knotted muscles, and he manages to wipe away the disgusting layer of filth on his skin.  
However, reaching his back proves to be impossible as he twists around to wash the space between his shoulder blades, cursing at the pain cruelly wrenching his stomach. He hisses and gives up, leaning back against the tub and breathing heavily. This isn't going to work.

Maybe he should ask- no, not worth it. He doesn't want to depend on Reg. He doesn't want Reg to see him naked, to see his dirty skin- wait. Lyan lifts a hand to his face, covering his eyes and taking a deep breath. He can feel his nose tingling, a sure sign of another oncoming nosebleed.Why does he even care about the way Reg will see him? Why? Why are such thoughts making their way in his mind? He should be worried about what Reg would do to him, not the way he would react.  
Because that's the way normal people think, he tells himself. Normal people don't want to be seen naked. It's normal.  
But Lyan doesn't care about someone seeing him naked, that's not the point. Everyone has a human body. He cares about being seen for what he is, he realizes. He cares about Reg knowing.  
Does he really need to get clean? All of him?  
He shudders, an unwanted memory flashing in front of his eyes. He needs to get clean. It's nearly driven him crazy on several occasions, thinking about his foul skin, thinking about the dirtiness sitting on his back, filth he had no way of washing off completely. But now he has the chance to clean everything off, everything.

And if something goes wrong, he can still fight.  
___

Standing over the sink, Reg hears Lyan yell his name from the bathroom. He drops the dishes – man are they gross, how long has it been since he's actually cleaned them? – and hangs the dish rag on its hook before turning around, making his way down the corridor. Walking up to the door, he calls out to the boy. "What is it, Lyan?"  
"I need help washing my back. I can't reach it without my stomach hurting like a bitch."  
"Should I be careful before touching you?"  
"It's fine, just tell me where."  
"Sure." Reg grabs the handle, but then a thought crosses his mind. "I'm going to see you naked, is that okay with you?"  
He hears Lyan expel a dry, humorless laugh. "I don't particularly mind you seeing me naked, as long as you don't try anything funny."

"I'm not a pervert." Reg grumbles as he enters the bathroom.  
"Well, you know. I shouldn't be letting you in so easily, but then again, if you wanted to jump me you'd have done it yesterday or when I woke up. I mean... Unless you're a psycho who wants me to trust you first then make me suffer." Lyan glances at the man in front of the bath. "Which is a needlessly complicated plan. So give up if that's what you were planning, besides there's no way I'm trusting you any time soon."  
"You talk too much. I'm not going to do anything to you, even less do something so twisted."  
"Here." Lyan shoves a glove in his face as Reg's knees creak in kneeling position.  
"Your manner of handing objects could be a little bit more delicate. You almost poked my eye out."  
Lyan shrugs and doesn't answer, so Reg continues talking. "Are you feeling better?"  
"Am I ever feeling better should be the right question to ask, but I'll be nice and say that yeah, the pain's getting better."  
"Good." Reg pulls the glove over his hand, about to tell Lyan to get ready, when he notices his back

His... back. Covered in... old wounds, he can tell. Burn marks... Scars.... He almost, almost asks about it but his brain decides to be faster than his tongue and he shuts it. Good thing too, because he notices that Lyan's watching him out of the corner of his eye. He mentally shakes away the buzzing questions circling his mind and lowers his gloved hand, letting it hover above the boy's back.  
"Okay, get ready. I'm going to start at the right shoulder."  
"Okay." Even though Reg has Lyan's approval, he feels a minute tremor as his hand touches the shoulder. It's small, and gone in a blink of an eye, but Reg notices and it makes him wonder: how good is Lyan at hiding his pain and fear? This level of control is... It must be tiring to always watch out for your own reactions

Reg's thoughts are interrupted by Lyan's quiet voice. "Hey, how old are you?"  
The older man thinks about the question for a while, gently scrubbing the boy's damaged skin, before answering. "Can I ask you first? I mean, I gave you my name already."  
Slight annoyance slips through Lyan's reply. "I told you. I won't play by the rules."  
"Fine, fine! I'm 33, okay?"  
Lyan actually sneers. "Really? 33?!" He hisses as he laughs because it hurts his stomach but for some reason, he finds this really funny. His nerves must be failing him. "With that hair, I thought you were at least 50. Man, you look so much older than you are."  
"Shut up." Lyan's neck swivels lightly. Reg looks like he's just eaten a fuckload of lemons.  
Lyan has to turn around to snicker a bit more. For some reason, he feels like he's won a personal victory.  
"Your turn now," Reg curtly shoots back.  
"Yeah, okay, I'm 16." Lyan hears the older man snort. "What now?"  
"I may be old, but you're still in diapers."  
"Oh shut up, you crummy bastard." Lyan stares at the calm ripples sliding across the water. He notes the rosy tinge of the bath around him without giving it a second thought, his brain only registering the pretty color: a light pink, the same color some flowers can be. Rare flowers, delicate living beings that aren't very common on the streets, the cement and dust preventing any seed from growing.  
Reg's voice reaches his ears mid-sentence, the shadow of his arm passing over Lyan's head jolting the boy out of his reverie. "- water gets gross, I'll change it for you." His body shudders in surprise at the sudden movement, and his mind, catching up to the present with some difficulty, realizes that he let his guard down – again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin.  
> Yay, Lyan is (kind of) acting civilized! Isn't that great?  
> Also thanks for your comment JoJo, that was the motivation I needed to continue.  
> Leave some feedback if you feel like it, as always, and thanks for reading!


	7. Roiling Discomfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reg doesn't feel too good.

"I'm sorry! Shit, I didn't mean to..." Reg apologizes as he quickly withdraws, watching Lyan carefully. He hadn't meant to catch Lyan off guard, so sure he was of the boy's constant awareness; he hadn't thought pulling the plug would startle him.  
The kid sucks in a breath to calm his jittery nerves before talking. "Don't be." His voice is a bit tense but both of them pretend not to notice. "It's a reflex. Not your fault."  
"No, it is, I'll be careful next time. Sorry." The kid just nods, and wipes his nose, Reg noticing the red trail left behind on Lyan's arm. He doesn't dare ask about the nosebleed, however. He feels like he's made enough mistakes for now. So they wait for the water to drain out.

Reg checks Lyan's body as the pink water disappears down the drain. There's no blood left, save the relatively fresh cuts littering his body, but now Reg can see there are glaring problems with Lyan's weight and general health. His body isn't slim. It's skinny. No wonder he weighed next to nothing in Reg's arms. And it's so damaged, too. He can see several burns that look like they were made by cigarette butts, cuts and bruises and scars everywhere. Everywhere. Reg just sits there. He stares blankly, something uncoiling slowly at the back of his mind. It's like... it's trying to expand. Reg feels it wiggling, looking for a way to break out, twisting around and pushing against his brain. Nausea crawls up his throat, and suddenly his trance is broken by the abrupt urge to hurl. He swallows it back to where it came from, shaking his head and rattling memories. This isn't the right time to start dwelling on... on.... on what exactly?

He turns the faucet on to refill the bath. Silence sits heavily in the small bathroom. Lyan chases it away as he eyes Reg's grim face. "Hey, why the long face? I'm sure you've seen worse than this in the streets. Besides, I'm used to it."  
Reg lets out a dry chuckle at these words. "Worse? Yeah, I've seen worse." His eyes narrow and he stares in Lyan's eyes. "But it's wrong. Don't tell me you can get used to that."  
Lyan smirks. "Seems I can."  
...Yeah. He lowers his eyes, a pensive look appearing on his face. He's used to it.  
Definitely.  
He starts splashing clean water on his body to rinse the suds away and watches the old man's face. 

Thoughts whirl around Reg's mind: if he'd actually done something for Lyan at that time... His eyes dart towards Lyan's left wrist. Lyan follows, but doesn't say anything: he's not sure how to react in front of the man's dark expression.  
"Lyan, let me touch your wrist, please." Lyan doesn't say anything and Reg gently lifts his wrist off the side of the tub. Feeling the bones under his fingers, he senses the tell-tale irregularities of a broken bone that healed on its own. No proper care. Just luck and a good metabolism, and even then he can feel the bone isn't completely healed. It's probably a weak spot on Lyan's body. He puts back the wrist on the smooth white surface.  
Lyan's starting to feel scared, because Reg's face is a storm about to rage and it really doesn't fit the old man's usual behaviour. He hesitantly ventures out a cautious "Reg?" and just like that, the menace is gone, vaporized. Reg looks at Lyan, and his eyes are... complicated, to say the least. But they aren't menacing anymore. "Sorry, I got a bit carried away there, didn't I?"  
"Kind of."  
"Yeah, sorry about that." His lips are pursed and he gazes at the clear water filling the tub, gathering his thoughts. It irks him how Lyan doesn't seem to care about his own predicament."... How can you be this easy-going?"  
"What?"  
"This is dangerous, you know that. You can't continue like this. Do you always get picked off the side of the road by random strangers? Aren't you even a little afraid? Don't you realize how dangerous it is?!"  
"Quit yelling, Reg." Reg stops talking at once. He didn't even realize he'd raised his voice. He pinches the bridge of his nose, frowning. "I'm sorry. Again. Sorry."  
Lyan just blinks, confused by the way the older man is acting, but nothing shows on his face.  
Reg lifts his head up again, looking at the boy. "Look, Lyan? Can't you just stay here a bit?"  
"What?" The kid is looking at him like Reg's just lost a few screws.  
"There's no catch, I swear. I'm completely serious about this. You seem a bit... lost, and I really want you to recover." Reg says, slightly uncertain about his choice of words.  
The kid's eyes slide down. "I dunno, man. This is...." He trails off. Why isn't he refusing the proposal outright, like he should? Why is he even considering the offer? Where did his instinct of self-preservation fly off to?

"Yeah, no, don't worry, I don't want you to be pressured into answering or anything like that. Take your time deciding what you're going to do," adds Reg.  
The kid watches him. Unmoving. Thinking. Judging. His green eyes are alight with so many emotions. Then he blinks, and the moment is gone. "Okay. I'm getting out of the tub now. Help me up."  
Reg sticks out his hand and Lyan grabs it, grunting as he slowly pushes himself up.  
"Are you feeling any better now?" inquires Reg, still worried about the huge bruise.  
"I can breathe better now, so yeah. Thanks for the bath, old man."  
Reg just nods, he isn't entirely convinced by the tone of Lyan's voice. He'll have to get painkillers later, judging by the tense muscles of Lyan's stomach.  
As he helps him out of the bath, he can't help but notice that Lyan isn't relaxed at all. It's no wonder he looks so tired if he's on edge all that time. "I take it you need help to dry your back?"  
"I guess," he sighs as Reg helps him sit on the toilet seat again. "I don't really want to move anymore." He closes his eyes and lowers his head in his hands, the very epitome of fatigue.  
For a while, there isn't a sound beside the gentle rubbing of the towel against his back.  
"You know," Reg mutters, "I think you should go back to bed."  
"No." Lyan's voice is firmer than expected. "I have to go."  
"Lyan... You look utterly exhausted, are you seriously going to leave in this state?"  
"You've done more than enough, Reg."  
"At least stay for a while, you really look like you need to sleep some more."  
Lyan doesn't answer.  
"You should rest. Just think of it like a nap. You don't need to stay too long. It's really early in the morning, too, you can allow yourself to sleep some more. It's still dark out."

Somehow, and Lyan doesn't really know how, Reg has managed to convince him to stay. His back is dry, so Reg hands Lyan the towel and tells him to finish drying himself. Lyan takes the towel and doesn't even bother to look at Reg as he briefly does as told. The strands of his hair are dripping wet and his face is tired, so very tired. Then he bends down to grab his sweater and Reg speaks up.  
"Do you really need to put that back on?"  
"I don't sleep shirtless."  
"....Okay. I'll give you something from my drawers."  
"I have to keep my own sweater."  
"But it's so dirty... You can't sleep with that, Lyan."  
"Then give me a hoodie to sleep in, I'll give it back to you before leaving."  
"Okay. I'll go get one."  
Reg goes to fetch the promised hoodie and upon his return, he catches Lyan's slight start at the door's opening. Reg blows air through his nose. He's so jumpy all the time... "You don't have to be this nervous around here, kid. I mean, it's just me and my cat, you know."  
Lyan rolls his eyes. "Shut up, baldie. Give me that." He's rewarded with a hoodie and trunks lightly tossed in the general direction of his face. "I'm not even starting to bald, kid," retorts Reg. "Not a valid insult."  
Lyan grumbles some kind of thanks and Reg stands in the doorway, keeping an eye on him as he puts everything on, albeit slowly and painfully. It takes forever but Lyan doesn't ask for anything, so the man stays put.  
"Okay. Finished." breathes the boy, nodding at him.  
They both make their way back to the room, and as he sits back down on the bed, relief seems to flit across his face for a split second. It's hard to tell with the bruises, cuts and swelling. As he lies down and Reg slowly pulls the covers over him, he hesitantly opens his mouth. "Old man...Reg."  
"Yeah?"  
The boy burrows in his clean pillow, looking away from the man."...It's nothing."  
_

Reg sets out with the firm intention of finding medecine and water, and Mizzie joins him as soon as he leaves the room. Her tail brushing against his calves, they both make their way to the kitchen and Reg starts looking around for some painkillers. While he rummages in the cupboards, she jumps on the table next to her owner and watches him, patiently waiting. When his fingers encounter what he was looking for, he turns around and finally notices her very insistent gaze. He can't help but chuckle a bit, scratching her behind the ear. "Oh, you're hungry aren't you? Sorry, I kinda forgot you didn't have anything left in your bowl." Her eyes follow him when he goes to take out food, and she immediately throws herself down to her bowl as he starts to pour in the dry food. "Here you go, you little monster."  
He watches her eat and thinks about Jin, who's always wondering why cat owners speak to their cat all the time, as if they're expecting the cat to answer.  
Reg smirks. The reason why he likes talking to his cat is because he knows he won't have an answer, Mizzie listens to him and understands, and that's all that counts. Answers aren't necessary.  
Not that he's ever telling that to Jin, finally something that know-it-all doesn't understand.

He sighs, sitting down on the kitchen's only stool. Why did he ever take that kid in? What's happening? Why does he feel like he needs to protect him? He has no idea. Absolutely none.  
The kitchen's shadows shift and fade as the cold sun appears in front of his house, the man pondering about his feelings and his actions, when it hits him. Right, that's what he forgot, he should call Jin. But first, give the medecine to Lyan.

When he opens the door and nears the bed, Lyan's body doesn't move. Must've been dead tired. He puts down the new glass of water and pills next to the bed, taking the untouched previous glass, and straightens back up, contemplating Lyan's sleeping face. A kid's face. Exhausted, battered, worn out at only 16. And even if his eyes are closed, Reg has no trouble visualizing how tired they look in their very core, despite the watchful and wary glint they possess. It's like.... it's like they've lived so much longer than the average adult ever will. This kid's had a shit life, no doubt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin.  
> I hope you're wondering what Reg's weird nausea was about, cause that right there might be a plot point.  
> By the way, if you're wondering about Mizzie, imagine her as an elegant pale gray fluffball. Yes, lots and lots of fluff, to compensate for the incoming angst of this story.  
> Thanks for reading, leave a comment if you feel like it!


	8. Jin's Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, we get more insight on Jin's character and the guys' line of work.

The kitchen is completely silent, save for the clock's regular ticking and Reg's occasional sighs as he sits on his stool in quiet contemplation. Elbows set on the kitchen's table, he presses his fist to his lips, pondering the situation. Maybe the man he saw beating Lyan up was someone the boy knew. After all, the kid said he was used to it. But was he used to being beaten up by random people in the streets or was it the same person every time? What was he even doing in the streets that late?  
The broken wrist the first time could've been an accident, slipping in the snow, a bad landing and... But it wasn't a simple accident. Had it been, the kid would've wanted help. It didn't make sense that he'd run away.  
Reg is pretty sure that 13 year old teens know better than going around at night in Crocuta city.  
Especially around his neighbourhood, even during the day it isn't common to find kids here.  
There has to be some reason for Lyan to still be ambling these streets after three years.  
Where is his home, anyway? Does he even have a home? Does he even have parents?

Reg's thoughts are interrupted by Mizzie nudging his shoulder. He turns to her, his eyes interrogating the cat. She lowers her head towards the phone he laid down on the table earlier, when he meant to call Jin and then forgot about it. Right.  
"Thanks, Mizzie," he smiles fondly and scratches behind her ear. She stays put, her eyes slowly closing in satisfaction.

He takes hold of the phone, about to call Jin, when the phone starts vibrating in his hand and the caller's name appears on the screen.  
How convenient.  
He takes the call. "Hi Jin."  
"Hey big guy, you sound a bit tired." Jin's voice purrs in his ear.  
"Do I? I didn't really notice." Reg pauses to rub his eyes. "Well now that you mention it, I'm starting to feel it."  
"You tired, now that's something that doesn't happen very often." He can hear the smile in his friend's voice.  
"Yeah, I know. I think it's because I picked up a stray and I've been looking after it since yesterday."  
"A stray?" That definitely catches Jin's attention. "Since when do you pick up strays?" He sounds genuinely surprised. "I thought Mizzie was the only exception to the rule, and that was years ago!"  
"I don't know how to explain it, but this guy's special. I actually wanted to talk to you about it earlier but... well, I forgot."  
"I see." Jin pauses. "Special to you, huh."  
"He's kinda fierce."  
"Well duh, it's a stray. Why did you want to talk to me anyway?"  
Reg tugs on his beard a little bit, thinking of a way to formulate what he wants to ask. "Well..."  
Jin presses him on. "Yeah?"  
"The stray I picked up... is in bad shape. Like, really bad shape."  
"Uh-huh."  
"So I wanted to know if you could maybe check on him?"  
Jin's voice sounds a bit indignant when he answers. "Reg, I'm not a vet."  
"Oh, no, he's a kid." Reg rectifies right away.  
"A- what?!" Jin's startled yell is so loud that Reg has to hold the phone away from his ear, involuntarily pulling a face. "The fuck?! It's a kid?!"  
"Well, yeah, he's-"  
"Reg, what the fuck is going on?" Something crashes in the background, instantly followed by Jin's swearing.  
Reg is starting to feel a bit worried. "Um, well, um-"  
Jin cuts him off. "Reg, spit it out."  
So Reg pulls himself together. "Well, I think it's the kid from last time. No, actually," he adds forcefully, trying to be convincing, "I'm sure it's him."  
"The kid from three years ago." Jin sounds incredulous. "How can you be so sure? And why would you ever pick him up?"  
"I don't know, okay?" Reg throws his free arm in the air in frustration. "I know it sounds crazy, I just know it's him. What I don't know is why the hell I feel the need to give him shelter. I can't help it! It's just like Mizzie!"  
He can hear Jin sigh on the other side of the line. "Okay, okay, calm down, I get it. I'll stop asking questions. So you want me to check up on him? Just tell me about the state he's in, I can't come over right now."  
Reg tells himself for the billionth time that he's really grateful for Jin's ability to go with the flow. A real gift. "I take it I just need to tell you about the fresh wounds." Jin makes a sound that probably means yes. "Okay. He has a huge purple bruise on his stomach. He's got bruises on his arms and legs, too, and his face is really messed up. What worries me the most is that he keeps getting nosebleeds. I checked though, his eyes aren't unfocused or anything. I didn't see anything else wrong with his recent wounds."  
Jin's answer comes pretty fast. "The nosebleeds are frequent? His head doesn't hurt?"  
"No, I mean his face probably hurts like a bitch but he hasn't said anything about his head hurting."  
"And the bruises? Did he mention them?"  
"Not really. He just said he was used to it."  
Jin doesn't react to that. "Okay. Just give him water, looks like he needs it, and if he doesn't have any other complaints that should be enough."  
"Okay, I will." Reg catches himself. "Wait, actually I did give him water already. I put a glass near the bed when he was sleeping yesterday. But he didn't drink it, so maybe he's not thirsty?"  
"Reg, use your brain. You're an utter stranger to him – well, almost – and you gave him a glass he didn't see you prepare. Of course he's not gonna drink it. And from what I can tell, if he really is "used to it", he's probably really cautious around others."  
Reg brings his hand to his forehead and mutters. "I'm a total idiot. You're right."  
Jin's voice then picks up speed. "Anyway, I didn't call you to talk about strays and the like. You remember I told you I was on a case lately? With the team?"  
"Yeah."  
"Well, the man's been avoiding us for some time now. It's really pissing me off, and the others can't find him either. It's kind of a big fish, so we need your help to track him down."  
"Is it that important? I mean... I have the stray to take care of."  
"Are you fucking with me? Your stray can wait. We've been stuck on this case for months. We're getting fed up with this shit. I really think you're the only one who can help us right now."  
"He's not my stray, Jin."  
"What?"  
"He's not my stray, he's a stray. He doesn't belong to me. That kid isn't mine."  
"Ugh, yes, okay, I don't care about that! Just get your ass over here and help us!"  
"I don't want to work with them this time. If I'm helping someone, I'm only helping you. I don't need to see other people right now."  
"Yes, okay," huffs Jin. "I get it."  
"What's in it for me, though?" Reg enquired, a wolfish grin spreading across his features.  
"Oh you mother- I can hear that grin plastered all over your stupid face! This is why I have this love/hate relationship with you. Mostly hate."  
"I love you too."  
"Shut up. If you do this, you get 25% of my pay, cause I did most of the work until now."  
"40% and we'll call it a deal. I have a stray to take care of, you know," teased Reg.  
"I hate you."  
"I love you."  
"Okay, fine!" Jin sighs in exasperation. "It's a deal."  
"Right, then come and get me right away, while the stray's sleeping."  
"Sure." Jin's voice is full of warning as they near the end of the conversation. "Tracker..."  
"Yeah?"  
"Do not go wild on him. Else I don't get the money and neither do you. They want him alive, we can't risk it."  
"What ring is he in again?"  
"....Pedophilia. I told you that last time we talked about the case."  
"Well, I forgot. So he has to be alive, but he doesn't have to be in good shape, right?"  
"Yes." Jin's answer is adamant.  
"That's the only criteria for when we hand him over?"  
"Yes."  
"Got it." Reg hangs up, stands up and stretches. Mizzie looks at him curiously, obviously interested in the conversation that just happened in front of her. "We're gonna kick some bad guy's ass!" Reg beams at her, and pats her lightly on the head before walking out of the kitchen towards the living room.

Mizzie jumps on the table and sits down next to Reg's arm, her watchful eyes following his hand as the pen dances across the piece of white paper. He hesitates, the pen stopping for a moment. Looking up, his gaze ventures outside the living room, to the road in front of his home. He didn't check the clock, but judging from the shadows, it's already nearly sunrise. He goes back to writing the last words of the note warning Lyan of his leave, then grabs it off the table to stick it to the house's front door. The pen is dropped in the kitchen's pencil box next to its door, then both the cat and the owner go to check on the boy one last time. Lyan seems to be sleeping peacefully, which Reg considers as a relief. He didn't think the boy would fall asleep so easily and sleep so long. 

Reg bustles around in the entryway, grabbing his coat while he speaks to his cat. "Okay Mizzie, you be a good girl and watch after Lyan for me, all right?" The cat flicks her right ear at the man, her face telling him not to worry and just go, and Reg smiles at her. "What would I do without you, I wonder?" The cat just blinks at her owner and turns tail to go press the door's switch. The door slides open, and Reg steps out in the gray afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin.  
> You probably saw it coming. I mean, about Reg's occupation, with the tags and all... Did you?  
> By the way, I mentioned it in my other story, but I was thinking of making art of my characters. What do you think?  
> Thanks for reading, leave a comment if you feel like it!


	9. Investigation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reg and Jin start to track down their man together.

"Okay, here's the lead."

Reg barely has the time to close the car's door before Jin starts talking. He looks over at his friend's side while he pulls the seatbelt over his chest, the car revving up under his feet, and his eyes meet a piece of cloth hanging from Jin's hand.  
He frowns in disapproval. "That's the only thing you got? I'm not a dog, Jin."  
The Asian man snorts in amusement and lets go of the cloth, the shirt landing on Reg's lap. "Really."  
Reg shoots him another glare before grabbing it and closing his eyes, feeling the fabric around his fingers. His breathing slows down as he tries to reach out, to feel not only the physical side to it, but everything surrounding and composing the cloth.  
Jin stays silent, and as much as he feels like glancing at his meditative friend, his eyes stay trained on the gray road. Cars are rare around here, and driving around draws attention to them, but their job requires them to move far and fast. Besides, the pros largely outweigh the cons... else Jin wouldn't be here doing what he does.

"I can't." Reg breathes out in frustration, his eyebrows drawing closer. "This isn't enough, it just doesn't work that way. I need to be where he was."  
"Thought so."  
"What, so you had a better idea than this? Where are we even driving?"  
Jin smirks and slips the piece of cloth back into his jacket as he answers. "To the hotel room where Tom and I busted him. He managed to escape, and although we didn't have a clue for the longest time, I think I know how he pulled it off."  
Reg waits for Jin to continue, but that's obviously not going to happen unless he gives his friend the pleasure of acting curious. He sighs deeply before turning to him. "How."  
Jin doesn't even try to hide his satisfied smile. "Well, we didn't have a name, right? We only had descriptions and nicknames. Only the descriptions matched, unlike any other piece of information we had; which meant that he'd appeared in flesh to every witness, so when we got a call telling us about his visit to the hotel, we were sure that it was him and that he'd be there. At least," Jin pauses, blowing strands of hair away from his forehead. "That's what we thought. But the guy is one sneaky piece of shit: I don't know how, I haven't worked that part out yet, but he got tipped off about us. He knew we were after him, he never actually escaped us. He just wasn't there. His stuff was there, in the room, yet... He wasn't anywhere to be seen. It was all a lure."  
"Are you sure it's his stuff?"  
Jin rolls his eyes, as if ever doubting him was out of question. "Of course. You know I check."  
"Then-"  
"Exactly, why did he do it? How did he know? Who told him? Excellent question."  
"Okay, I'll shut up."  
Jin shoots his friend a charming smile, but Reg doesn't react. "In the end, what I'm saying is, I think we have a traitor in our ranks."  
Reg doesn't answer, so Jin insists. "Or maybe someone's been listening in on us, but I highly doubt that since Mancy and Nikos both upgraded our security system a month ago."  
Still no response. "You can talk, you know."  
Reg just shrugs. "I don't really care about all that. It's your headquarters, your team, not mine."  
"Right. I just thought you'd help me with my reasoning, you know, as a friend."  
"Jin, I don't care. You'll end up finding the ones or one responsible for all this, but right now, I just want info on the man we're tracking. And besides, maybe you're just feeding off of your own imagination and the man was just smart enough to escape when he heard you coming. Maybe no one actually ratted you guys out."  
"He was on the fifth fucking floor, Reg. He couldn't simply have jumped out the window."  
"Yeah, yeah. Just drive, stop talking. I'm tired, I'll sleep until we get there."  
"You're just frustrated that you couldn't get anything from that shirt."  
_

Upon their arrival, Reg slides out of the passenger side, slamming the door behind him. The sound echoes across the street, immediately followed by a second one as Jin exits the car as well. Reg takes a while to take a deep breath, slowly releasing it while he stares at the hotel in front of him.  
"The guy's pretty rich, isn't he?"  
"Yeah." Jin sidles up to his left, nodding in agreement. "I thought the same when I saw the hotel."  
It's not a particularily luxurious hotel, compared to those in Cog City, but it's clean and neat. Such a building contrasts glaringly with the homes around it, and that means spending the night here costs quite an amount of money.

They enter the hotel and Reg immediately makes a beeline for the lady sitting behind the white booth, his friend following him at a slower pace. Pulling out the portrait Jin handed to him seconds before, Reg takes a moment to study it before showing it to the lady. It's supposed to be the man described by the witnesses and victims he's made, and the only thing they can really use to investigate.  
Jin flashes his easy smile at the woman, his eyes suddenly warm and welcoming, as if he's meeting an old friend. "Hi again, how've you been?"  
The woman immediately averts her gaze, and Reg can see the beginnings of a pink tinge floating across her cheeks. "Hello. I've been all right, how's your investigation coming along?"  
Reg speaks up before Jin can reply the flirtatious answer he's obviously about to say. "Hello, miss. I'd like to know if you've really seen this man."  
Jin's voice rises next to him, steady enough to appear calm, but Reg knows that his friend is feeling indignant. "I already checked, Reg. You don't need to."  
Reg turns around, sighing yet again. "You know full well why I do this."  
"Yeah, I do, but it's still annoying."  
"I know."  
The woman's gaze switches between the two men as she follows the exchange, until Reg turns back to her and speaks again. "Please tell."  
She's beginning to find that the tall and visibly older man has some kind of calm and patient charm to him, completely different from his very talkative (and hot) companion. "Um... Well, yes. I did. I did see him."  
Reg nods to himself, before taking the drawing away and folding it in four. "She's not lying."  
"Well duh," Jin says as his eyes follow Reg's hand slipping the piece of paper back in his coat.  
Reg turns to the woman and smiles to her. "I'm sorry if that seemed rude, but we can never be too sure."  
The lady seems to be at loss for words for a while before she starts to nod frantically. "Oh, no, no problem. It's fine."  
They ask the lady if they can check out the man's room, but she refuses apologetically. "I'm sorry, I can't let you in an occupied room unless you have the power to legally investigate it."  
They nod in understanding, thank her and turn to walk away from the booth. As they step out of the building, Jin snickers and digs an elbow in Reg's ribs. "You almost broke her back there with that radiant smile of yours. Did you see her space out a little?"  
Reg shrugs and looks down at Jin. "Like you're one to talk."  
"I know, I know. You don't seem like you're in the mood for some jokes, you want to go right now?"  
"Yeah."  
Jin smiles and pats his companion on the shoulder. "I knew it. All right, go wait for me in the back, just let me get our stuff." He steps past Reg, then pauses. "By the way, dude. Relax."  
"I know. I'm completely relaxed, don't worry."  
"Nah, you're too calm to be relaxed. You really want to catch the guy, huh? Mind telling me why you're getting this worked up for this man? He's just like the usual."  
Reg turns around and starts stepping away from Jin. "I just... feel irritated."  
"Is it because of that stray?"  
Reg doesn't answer, and Jin doesn't insist. Both walk the opposite way.  
The truth is, Reg has been thinking about the man he saw beating up Lyan. He doesn't know why, but he's feeling pissed off and he just wants to get this anger out of his system. Usually, when he catches people Jin is after, he neutralizes them in the way they deserve to be neutralized, most likely a painful one. But this time, he knows he's going to need to control his feelings; if his anger dominates him, he might end up killing the man they're tracking.  
He needs to keep his cool. What he saw that night has nothing to do with this.  
Lyan's attacker isn't this man.  
Why is he even feeling so murderous because of all that? He's already seen so many abusive assholes, why is this one making him so frustrated and upset? Why is he feeling so fucking protective of Lyan?!  
He stops to take a deep breath, the cold air cutting through his lungs. He needs to stop doing this. He feels like he's just going in circles.  
Calm down.  
Concentrate on this prey.  
A pedophile. Has done horrible things, deserves to be punished but NO ONE dies tonight. Dying is too easy. Killing is a mistake.  
Avoid mistakes.

The sound of footsteps draws closer to him. He turns around to face Jin, who holds out his arm.  
"There. Your stuff. Ready?"  
Reg breathes out slowly. Second time he's done that tonight, notices Jin; something must be really bothering him.  
"Yes. Let's go."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi pumpkin.  
> I'm so frickin tired right now I don't know what to tell you besides the obvious fact that I'm practically begging for some feedback. No, scratch that, I am begging for feedback. Pleaseeeee.  
> It's hard to know if my writing is good enough for you guys if you don't tell me, but... I am so ready to improve.  
> Thanks for reading, leave a comment if you feel like it!


	10. Old Youth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reg comes back home to see how Lyan is doing.

Reg stops in front of his house, hesitation nagging at him. Jin left him at the curb of the road two streets away, but neither of them thought about their appearance before leaving Reg there. They're so used to it, it's never struck Reg how scary he might look like this. But now, as he remembers that there's a battered kid in his house that barely knows him, he finally realizes it might not be the best idea to trudge in there without a second thought. If Lyan's awake, he might get scared by the state of Reg's clothes...

The man sighs and starts walking towards the door. It's not like he has a choice. He can't stay out here forever, and he does want to check on Lyan's state before the boy wakes up. Fortunately, all worry that he harbored disappears when he catches sight of Mizzie waiting behind the kitchen's window. The cat's calm demeanor is a clear indicator that nothing is out of place, and she blinks at him when their eyes cross. Then she turns around and jumps down, the hairs she leaves behind floating around in small spirals. Seconds later, the door slides open and Reg breathes out slowly as he peels off his coat; Mizzie's behaviour means the kid hasn't tried anything funny while he was gone, and that he's still sleeping. Nevertheless, he should hurry up and get a change of clothes, he doesn't want to freak out the boy with these bloody pants.

Upon returning to the boy's bedroom with fresh clothes, Reg feels right away that something isn't quite right in the room. It doesn't take long for him to notice that Lyan isn't doing good when he draws closer to the bed: the boy's body is falling and rising at a jagged pace, hidden under the white covers. The second thing he notices is that the glass and pills next to the bed are still untouched. Reg gets down to his knees, gently uncovering Lyan's flushed face. Blood has started to spill from his nose again, but the sheets aren't stained yet.  
"Hey, Lyan? Wake up." He calls out to the boy in a hushed voice, trying to rouse him, but Lyan's only reaction is to draw his eyebrows together, his eyes squeezing even tighter as he keeps expelling uneven breaths. Reg tries again, raising his voice above the boy's panting. "Wake up, come on. Or I'm shaking you awake." The boy's eyes are moving around under closed lids, but the older man can tell that the kid is starting to wake. "You're having a bad dream. Come on Lyan, listen to me, wake up."  
The boy's blurry eyes finally open, meeting Reg's own. Through the glassy gaze, Reg can see that Lyan is struggling to resurface from his dreams, like a drowning man fighting to breathe. Finally the boy's eyes clear and he frowns, seemingly confused. "Oww... Reg...?"  
"Yeah, it's me." Reg glances at the dampness of Lyan's forehead. "Are you okay?"  
"... Just... Stomach giving me hell."  
"Again?" Reg leans back to snatch the box of tissues sitting on a nearby chair and puts it down next to the boy's pillow, pulling one out for him. "And your nose is bleeding... Here."  
Lyan gets up on his elbow with noticeable difficulty, grabs the tissue and hastily wipes away the blood dripping down his upper lip. He doesn't look at the stained tissue, crumpling it up and hiding it in his hand. Reg doesn't comment, but the sweat on Lyan's face coupled with the additional nosebleed is giving him something to worry about. He has the feeling that the boy isn't telling him everything about how bad he's feeling.  
"Can I check your temperature?" Reg's hand hovers towards the boy's forehead, but Lyan immediately tenses up. The older man stops, his eyes questioning the boy.  
"Wait, just... Don't touch me yet." Lyan's body is stiff, and finally Reg notices the very slight shaking of the boy's shoulders. How did he not notice that? How is Lyan so... good at hiding things from Reg?  
The man pulls his hand back and slowly nods. "Okay. I'll wait." They both stare at each other for a while, green eyes latching on grey eyes. The small tremors gradually disappear, and although it takes time, Lyan finally blinks and his lips part. "Go ahead."  
Reg holds his hand above Lyan's forehead, but he doesn't even need to touch it to feel heat waves rolling off of Lyan's skin.  
"Okay, get off, get off!" Lyan's urgent tone makes Reg jerk away like he's just been burned.  
Lyan's uneven breathing is back, and he swallows with some difficulty.  
Reg stares at him guiltily, his voice low. Of course this was a bad idea, what was he thinking?! "I should've waited longer, I'm sorry."  
Lyan just breathes in, and out. In, and out. Reg continues staring, not knowing what to do or what to say. He waits for the kid to calm down, it's the only thing he can do. 

But instead, Lyan lifts his hand to his mouth and looks at Reg, watching him without making a move. All of a sudden his face drains of any color and he hunches over, his pained hissing muffled by his own hand. Lyan's back heaves with irregular gasps, and Reg wishes he could do something to make him feel better. When Lyan's body finally cuts him a break, Reg goes for the glass and medecine, handing it to the drained boy.  
"Take the pills and drink." Lyan refuses, shaking his head.  
But the warning in Reg's voice means it isn't optional. "Lyan. Drink it." Lyan's eyes are shooting daggers at him, but Reg is having none of it. "It'll make you feel better. It's just painkillers, I promise, and the glass is only water."  
Lyan doesn't move, his whole body completely tense as he keeps resisting the temptation of taking the painkillers. But then another wave of pain crashes down on him and he doubles over again, a grunt escaping his lips. "Lyan, just take them. You've got nothing to lose," says Reg with a concerned voice.  
"Get the fuck away from me!" screams the boy. His arm lashes out, knocking the glass to the ground. The contents spill everywhere and Reg stumbles back.

He won't take those drugs.  
He won't.  
He doesn't care about what he could gain by taking them, he's more afraid of what he could lose.

"Lyan, just-"  
"I won't take your fucking drugs, I'll be okay on my own," growls the boy. The older man stares at him for a while, then calmly says: "Then at least lie back down."  
He props the pillow back up behind Lyan and watches the boy hesitate, then slowly lean against it. He grabs the chair to sit down, waiting for the other to catch his breath. They both stay unmoving and wordless as they wait for Lyan's state to even out. The only sound in the room is his labored breathing as the minutes pass, until he seemingly relaxes.  
Seemingly, because Reg can't feel any relief spreading through the boy.   
He leans back in his chair, quietly checking Lyan over and assessing him. There's definitely something Lyan isn't telling him.

"Lyan." The kid turns his head to look at Reg. "How long since you've last eaten?"  
Lyan's eyes flicker and his voice sounds painfully hoarse when he retaliates. "Why do you want to know?"  
"Because something tells me you don't eat much. Have you seen yourself in a mirror lately?"  
The boy shakes his head.  
"Heck, even my bathroom has one, you're not going to tell me you haven't noticed how skinny you are."  
"Your mirror was foggy when I went there."  
"Lyan.... That's not what I'm talking about."  
Lyan doesn't answer and keeps brazenly staring at him. The boy may be skilled at hiding his pain, but dodging questions he doesn't want to answer doesn't seem to be his forte. Reg just puts his hands to his face, closes his eyes and slowly blows air out of his nose.  
"Fine. Don't answer. I'm going to give you something to eat, and you are going to eat it."  
Lyan's eyes flash at that, and he hisses at the older man. "Don't tell me what to do, asshole."  
The boy's whiplash reaction is startling, but Reg quickly recovers. "Sheesh. Sorry then. Please eat?"  
Lyan keeps glaring at him, and Reg sighs. "Please stop looking at me like that. I didn't mean to upset you, Lyan." The kid doesn't let up. "Look, I really just want you to recover, okay? You gotta eat to do that."  
The glaring only intensifies, and Reg gets up. "Okay fine, I got it. I'll go." He starts walking out, but it doesn't feel right to leave the boy like this. He stops in the doorway, turns around, crosses his arms and looks at the boy. "I won't tell you what to do if that's something you hate so much. I'm really, honestly sorry okay? I didn't know you were that touchy about it."  
Lyan looks away. Then, hesitantly, back at Reg. He doesn't hold his gaze very long, however, only for mere seconds: his eyes soon drop down to the sheets tangled in his fingers. Reg waits for the kid to answer, but he stays silent. It strikes him how vulnerable Lyan's frame seems in that bed, in this room. When he's not mouthing off at Reg, it's glaringly obvious how small and young he is; yet the fatigued way he holds himself with sagging shoulders, with that wary glint in his eye... He's so much older than he looks. Reg uncrosses his arms and straightens.  
"All right, it's okay if you don't answer. I'll go then."  
Reg leaves the room, but Mizzie doesn't follow him. Instead, she stares at Lyan.

He doesn't notice at first, frowning at his hands, thinking. He thinks about what he's doing here.  
He thinks about the risks.  
He thinks about the attention Reg is giving him. How nice and easy-going he is. How calm and patient he is.  
Lyan feels frustrated. He feels confused and angry. He doesn't like being confused, not knowing what's going to happen next, in a house he's never seen before. He knows that insulting strangers when you find yourself in their home isn't a good move, especially if you have no recollection of how you got there, but that's always been the way he copes with finding himself in these situations. He can't help it.  
And it really confuses him that Reg seems totally cool with it.  
Of course, that doesn't mean anything. Lyan knows about deceptive behavior, in fact he's practically a specialist at this point.  
Lyan winces when his stomach growls, his hand automatically flying to the bruise. He knows he should eat, but at the same time he really doesn't want to. Really not.  
The nausea rolling in his chest has drawn back a bit, but it doesn't disappear.  
Lyan is worried. What will happen when he goes back? He can't stay here.  
He doesn't have a choice. He has to go back.  
His choice has never really mattered, anyway.  
He has to go.  
His head rises to look around the room, sweeping over it twice, and that's when he notices her. The cat doesn't make a move, sitting very still on the carpet. Only her tail starts moving, slowly sweeping left, then right, then left, then right, in a hypnotic rythm. Lyan can feel some sort of peace invading his chest and mind.  
The cat blinks calmly, and Lyan feels the corners of his mouth tug in a small smile. She's really pretty.

The cat pushes itself up and starts making its way to the bed, her soft paws padding leisurely towards Lyan. As she nears the bed, she pauses, staring at him, and Lyan is reminded of the way Reg stays back whenever he's in the room. Lyan pats the top of the covers, and she jumps gracefully, her landing making a light poof on the bed.  
Then she turns towards Lyan, and lies down, tucking her paws under the white fluff of her chest.  
Her eyes remind him of.... grass. But not the measly blades of grass that peek out from the crevices in the streets. No, not that kind of grass.  
It reminds him of a picture he's seen before. Where? He couldn't say. It doesn't really matter. What matters is that he remembers it clearly.  
That picture felt like freedom.  
It was a vast expanse of healthy green grass opening on pure blue skies, in total isolation from the rest of the world, radiating peacefulness. Lyan doesn't know how such a place is called, or doesn't remember. He knows there's a word for it, but what's the point of remembering the word anyways?  
That picture felt like flying.  
He could easily imagine birds soaring in clear, azure skies. Imagine the wind ruffling feathers. Imagine the feeling of flying, of drifting, of liberty. Imagine seeing everything from afar, imagine floating above all, imagine warm sunlight, imagine knowing where you're headed, knowing what's waiting for you ahead: your own path in the harmless clouds.  
Choosing your own direction.  
No pain. No fear. No danger.  
A safe haven.  
A dream.  
Lyan shakes his head, his eyes escaping the cat's deep gaze, as a bitter chuckle escapes from his lips. Dreams don't matter. They've never mattered.  
He feels like crying, but he doesn't cry for meaningless things. Not anymore.  
His heart is sore, his chest is tight, and he feels lonely. Sad. Useless.  
The cat gets up, and for some reason Lyan feels a sudden pang in his chest. Why is he feeling...?  
He doesn't want Mizzie to go, that's why. How surprising. Lyan always tries not to grow attached to anyone or anything, refuses to feel any kind of bonding, but this cat... Somehow, he doesn't want this cat to go.  
Mizzie doesn't go. She steps forward, and Lyan doesn't dare move. He's afraid he might make the cat flee. Mizzie looks up at him, blinks.  
Why does that feel so... reassuring?  
Her small head gracefully bends down, the tip of her small, pink nose brushing against Lyan's left wrist. He can't help but feel like she's trying to comfort him, as ridiculous as it may seem.  
Then, she draws slightly back and sits down, closer to him than before.  
This time, Lyan doesn't feel like avoiding Mizzie's gentle gaze. His eyes are drawn to hers.  
Her clear eyes take him back to his imaginary shelter, and they both sit in comfortable silence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin.  
> No, you didn't miss a chapter (don't worry, you're not crazy). I know it looks like I forgot to write part of the story, that this is kind of a weird continuity, but I don't want to develop Reg's and Jin's job just yet. You'll get pieces of it later on!  
> This chapter had already been written out for a while by the time I posted chapter 9. I just didn't like how I wrote things for it I guess, and I wanted to change it, and I didn't know how to rewrite until yesterday. So yeah.  
> Enough with the rambling.  
> Thanks for reading, leave a comment if you feel like it!


	11. Body's Rebellion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyan's body is not cooperating.

When Reg opens the door, he sees Lyan's still awake, and that Mizzie's stayed with him on the bed.  
"Hey. How're you feeling?" Reg asks as he leans in the doorway.  
"I'll live." Lyan's eyes stay riveted on Mizzie. He doesn't think, the words escape him of their own will. "Your cat... is amazing."  
"I know, that's why I love her. Just when I think she can't get any greater, she does," Reg chortles. Mizzie flicks her right ear in seemingly absent-minded acknowledgement.  
Lyan stares at her, musing. "She...." He's searching for words. "It's like she can understand me."  
Reg crosses his arms. "You know, at first I didn't know if she'd like you, but it looks like I shouldn't even have wondered. She appreciates you." Reg stops talking, because Lyan is staring at him a bit weird. "What?"  
Lyan looks away. "I thought you were going to say it was a stupid idea."  
Reg grins. "You'd be surprised to know just how many stupid ideas are actually not. Mizzie is special."  
Lyan continues looking at Mizzie, the older man's words eliciting a doubtful look on his face. "What? Special?"  
"Yeah, special. Mizzie can understand me. And visibly, you."  
"Wait, hold up." Lyan frowns at the old man. "What do you mean, she can understand you?"  
Reg tightens his lips. Maybe he shouldn't tell the kid too much about all this, or Lyan might think he's crazy. Then again, given the way Lyan is staring at him, it may already be too late.  
Lyan's not dropping the subject now. "Come on, old man. Are you trying to make me believe she's like..." Lyan turns to Mizzie and his expression turns interrogative. Very doubtful and cynical, but interrogative. "Are you supposed to be like a magic cat or something?"  
Mizzie looks at Lyan and blinks peacefully.

"Mizzie," says Reg. The cat turns her head away from Lyan and stares at her owner. "Do you want to talk to him?"  
The cat gracefully lowers her head as her paw lands softly on Lyan's hand, then looks back at Reg with meaningful eyes and flicks her right ear.  
When he sees Mizzie's apparent reply to the man, Lyan speaks before he realizes it. "Wait, what." Both Reg and Mizzie simultaneously turn their attention to Lyan. The movement is so synchronized it's almost creepy, and Lyan's hands unconsciously clench the covers. "Are you telling me she can actually communicate with us...?"  
Reg would laugh if this wasn't a serious matter, because oh boy is that expression funny on Lyan's face. "She can, but only for some people. If she judges they are good enough."  
Lyan is dumbfounded, his brain yelling at him that this is bullshit and that Reg is completely bonkers but his heart completely willing to believe it. Mizzie does seem to have a different... personality compared to the cats he's used to seeing.  
Reg continues talking. "That's what she was probably doing before I came in. You did tell me you felt like she could understand you."  
"Well yeah, but...." Lyan's eyes switch between the cat and its master. "I mean...."  
"Don't say "She's just a cat"," warns Reg. "She doesn't like that."  
Lyan closes his mouth and stares at the cat. After a few seconds, he leans closer to Mizzie. "So.... you wanna talk with me then." She flicks her right ear as Lyan's eyes search Mizzie's. "I'm thinking this might sound completely stupid, but does she communicate with her ears?"  
The cat blinks and Reg nods, even if the boy isn't looking at him. "Left ear means no. Right ear means yes."  
Lyan's head turns to look at Reg again and the questions bubbling up inside slip out of him before he can stop them. "How does she... Did she learn? Or did she already know?"  
"She did both. I met her in the streets, pretty much like I found you. Bad state, all defensive and lots of loud unhappy noises. But... I guess she understood who I was when I tried to... When I tried to communicate with her. She followed me home because she didn't want me picking her up. We lived together for a while, we didn't really interact much. I guess we grew closer over time." Reg smiles at her. "And I taught her how to communicate easily with human beings. She's a really quick learner. So I can't have all the credit."  
Lyan doesn't say anything, he wants to take the time to think. 

It seems to him that he's been doing that a lot lately: thinking. He can't seem to clear his mind.  
"Oh right! I cooked up some stuff while you were in bed," exclaims Reg as he uncrosses his arms and steps in the room. "But first I need to check something."  
As soon as Reg says those words, a shadow obscures Lyan's face and he immediately gets back on his guard. The man quickly realises what's happening, so he halts and brings his hands up right away.  
"Chill, Lyan. I was just going to ask you if you could walk! Can you stop being so cautious around me? Or at least tone it down a little. I promise I'm not going to do anything bad to you. Ever."  
The boy slowly relaxes. "I didn't know that was what you were going to do."  
"It's fine. I shouldn't be asking you to do unreasonable things. You don't have to trust me, I already told you that, but I sure as hell am never going to hurt you. I'm just going to stand by the bed in case you trip or something. Not touching you unless you need me to," says Reg while stepping up to the boy's side. 

He watches as Lyan slowly takes out his legs from under the covers and - ah, fuck, Reg had forgotten how bad it was down there too. The bruises have taken on a yellowish hue, however, so at least it means they're healing. As Lyan sits on the edge of the bed, Reg can see his fists squeezing the bed sheets. He doesn't say anything and just watches on. Lyan takes deep, steady breaths and slowly stands up. He sways just a little bit and his legs are trembling slightly, but he's standing up on his own. He's staying upright on his own without stumbling or holding onto something.

 _Kid's pretty resistent_ , thinks Reg to himself. _He did receive that beating only yesterday, he has to be hurting right now. Maybe he's really used to this kind of pain, so he was telling the truth._

"Old man...?" Lyan's voice makes it way through Reg's thoughts "You all right?"  
Reg snaps back to the present and notices that the boy is staring at him cautiously. He smiles. "It's nothing. Are you all right?"  
"I can stand up fine, but I might trip a bit when I walk. Don't try anything weird when that happens, I don't need your help. I'll just walk along the wall."

They both edge closer to the kitchen, Lyan staggering a bit but otherwise unscathed. For some mysterious reason, Lyan's progression to the kitchen is completely different compared to their earlier trip to the bathroom. There's no panting, no sweating, no pain flittering across his face. He's completely calm about it, although his breathing is a little strained and he needs to lean on the wall a bit.  
Despite the fact that he's ready to ignore Lyan's words at a moment's notice, Reg never has to reach out to steady him, not even once. They reach the kitchen without a hitch.

While Lyan sits down on the only stool available, Reg brings over the meal, an apologetic undertone to his voice as he puts it down on the table. "I'm sorry Lyan, I don't really try hard when I cook, so it's just soup and pasta for us. Is it okay?"  
Lyan almost snickers at Reg's expression. The man is actually worried about Lyan's tastes.  
"I don't care. I never care. I just eat what I'm given to eat," answers Lyan.  
Reg nods, hands him a bowl of soup and drops a spoonful of noodles on Lyan's plate.  
Lyan stares at the food and realises he's very, very hungry. The soup looks good and smells good, but the noodles.... It makes him queasy just looking at them. Reg catches the look on Lyan's face as he hands him a glass of water.  
"Lyan, you don't have to eat if you don't want to. I'm not forcing this on you. I just think it would be better if you ate."  
The kid nods, taking a sip of water. He really doesn't want to eat. The nausea is returning, rolling around in his stomach, slipping up his throat. He can taste the salty saliva around the edges of his tongue. He gulps down some more water, trying to wash away the taste.  
He's probably feeling like this because he hasn't eaten in a while. Amongst other stuff.  
So he tentatively reaches out to the soup and lifts the bowl to his lips, blowing on it. It's such a casual thing to do, it makes him feel weird. It feels practically unnatural to him.When was the last time he had to cool down his food? It felt like ages ago.

Reg has his bowl in his hand but still hasn't started to eat, standing up against the kitchen counter and watching Lyan as discreetly as possible. When he feels the nostalgic vibe that emanates from Lyan, he wonders: what could the boy be thinking about? Seeing Lyan blow on his soup makes him feel like he's caring for a sick little brother. But he knows better: Lyan is nothing like a helpless little boy.

Lyan is about to tip the bowl forward to drink, but then he abruptly stops moving.  
Wait.  
His eyes dart towards Reg and he notices the man looking at him.  
What if...  
The old man's expression becomes questioning, and Lyan curses himself. He made him suspicious when he'd wanted to avoid that! And most of all, how could he have forgotten to check?  
No, he knows why: it's because the man doesn't feel dangerous. But that doesn't mean he should throw caution to the wind. Checking is what keeps him safe, how could he forget the most important thing to do? Why'd he even accept to come to the kitchen in the first place? The bath was bad enough, he knows it could've gone very wrong if Reg hadn't been so... if Reg hadn't been what he is. Sleeping in his bed was the same. Fuck, he even drank that water, and that was the worst he could've done! How could he have let his guard down so much?

Reg sets down his bowl and asks: "Is something the matter, Lyan?"  
The boy lowers his bowl as well. This is bad. What is he supposed to say? Well I was just wondering if you'd put any questionable ingredients in that soup doesn't seem like a good thing to say right now.  
"It's too hot," he says smoothly.  
The old man looks concerned. "Oh, I didn't think you were sensitive to heat. I thought it was something else." He then gestures towards the boy's plate. "But you can eat the pasta, it should be at the right temperature for you."  
Lyan nods and sets down his bowl. What is he going to do now? He needs to get out before the possible effects start appearing. He could bolt, he saw a door on the way to the kitchen but it looked weird, so maybe he won't be able to open it... There should be windows around, though. Maybe he can just sneak out of the kitchen for some reason, and then-  
"Say," Reg says, jolting the boy out of his musings. "...Are you afraid of something?"

Lyan stares at the older man, unsettled and unsure of how to respond. How'd he know? He thought he was hiding it well! Did he forget to control his face during his thinking? Before he can say anything, Reg answers instead.  
"I didn't put anything in your food, you know," says the man with a firm voice. "You're probably suspicious of me still, but I swear there's nothing in there."  
"No, it's not that, it's just that I'm not hungry," lies the boy.  
Reg frowns. "I'm gonna call bullshit on that one, Lyan. You haven't eaten since yesterday evening, and honestly I think you haven't eaten for a lot longer than that. That's really not good for you."  
Lyan's mouth stays shut. He doesn't want to answer.  
Reg sighs. "Are you sure you don't want to eat something? Just bread is fine. Or a fruit. I get it for the soup and the pasta, but bread is safe, right? You can cut the crust off if you're afraid I might've sprinkled something over it." He reaches for the loaf of bread and hands it to Lyan along with the knife. "Here, try eating that."  
Lyan takes it, considering it with wary eyes. Reg studies him while he does so, but when it doesn't look like the boy is ready to decide, he sighs.  
"Okay look, I'll eat it too so that way you'll be more at ease. You can even cut me my piece and I'll eat it first."  
Lyan hesitates when the new option is presented to him, but only for a short while. Truthfully, he's feeling famished, Reg's proposition isn't that crazy, and all in all the old man hasn't been acting remotely dangerous around him, so he complies and starts cutting the pieces of bread. Handing one to Reg, he waits for the man to bite on his share, chew it and swallow it before considering to do the same.  
Before he does, the red soup in his bowl catches his eye and he lowers his hand before tasting the bread. The thing is, he's pretty sure he can handle liquids better than solids right now. Maybe eating bread isn't the best thing to do.  
And that soup smells so good, too...

He's not sure if he should ask, but once again Reg speaks before he can. He points towards the bowl with his half-eaten piece of bread and says: "If you want, we can do the same with the soup. I'll take some before you."  
Lyan frowns at the man. _How in the hell is he doing that?_ It almost feels like he's reading his mind. He nods slowly. "...Yeah. I'd... like that."  
"Sure thing," says the man before dipping his big spoon in Lyan's bowl.  
It's the same as the bread, nothing seems wrong with it. 

That's when Lyan decides.  
Were it any other situation, he wouldn't do it.  
But at that very moment, Lyan is a bit lost and in a peculiar mindset. He feels like the usual rules he sets for himself don't have stable foundations here, in Reg's home.  
Normally, he would never let himself be cleaned. He would never sleep at a stranger's house. Those are still rules that can be bended a bit, considering those are situations where he can defend himself if they try to attack him. He's slept several times in a house he didn't know, but they can't sneak up on him even when he's sleeping.  
However, he would definitely never, ever accept anything that could pass his lips. Bad experience is the best teacher, he learned that the hard way: accepting food, drinks and medicine from a stranger is completely out of question, whatever state he may be in at that moment.  
Those are his rules.  
But in this place, where everything feels okay... Where the total lack of danger makes him forget about possible threats despite his wariness... He is confused. So he loses sight of the rules.  
And he stops resisting.  
He starts drinking the soup.

The hot liquid burns his tongue, but he enjoys the sensation of the numb throbbing spreading across his palate. The soup tastes wonderful. He doesn't care what's in it, all he knows is that it's really good. It's good, and hot, and he feels the warmth spreading through his body. He feels like he's dreaming. What he's experiencing right now is nothing like the meals at home.

Reg feels the caution around Lyan's heart morph into plain satisfaction. He smiles, uncrosses his arms and starts drinking his own soup. He actually did a good job, for once. He should write down the ingredients he used later. What was it again? He can taste tomato in there, that's for sure, and he remembers he cooked some potatoes too, but there's a another vegetable missing and he can taste it.

Lyan finishes his bowl a little bit before Reg, puts it down and licks his lips. He almost sighs in contentment, but he holds back. He's not showing Reg that he's happy about this.  
Then he glances at the bread. Ugh.  
Reg also puts down his bowl and starts to eat his noodles, peeking at Lyan. That's clearly a look of disgust on his face. "Lyan...."  
Lyan keeps eyeing the bread.  
Reg tries again. "Lyan, you really don't have to eat it."  
"I don't know. I know I should eat," Lyan mutters as he rubs his wrist. "It's just.... Ah, never mind."  
He brings the piece of bread to his mouth and bites down on it. 

The feeling of the crust on his tongue immediately makes him want to puke. He stands up, lurching towards the sink. Reg's eyes widen at the sudden movement, and next thing they know, Lyan is vomiting in the sink.  
Unfortunately for Reg, on the clean dishes.  
Unfortunately for Lyan, all the soup he just ate.

Reg is promptly by Lyan's side, not really knowing what to do. Mizzie doesn't seem to have a clue, either, until she jumps on the table and pushes the phone over the table, the loud clatter making Reg whirl around. The phone. Of course. Jin.

In a hurry, Reg rushes to his phone, fast-dialing Jin's number.  
Jin picks up immediately. "Hey aga-"  
"Jin, you gotta help me. Lyan's throwing up all over the place."  
"Woah, wait, what? Lyan? Who's-"  
"It's the stray I talked about earlier, remember? The kid's really sick right now, I tried to get him to eat something solid and now he's puking."  
"Oh, ok, that's not good."  
"I know it's not good. He ate soup just fine, but he couldn't handle the bread and he threw it right back up-"  
"Has he tried to piss yet?"  
"What?"  
"Has he gone to pee yet?"  
"I don't know!" Reg's getting really worked up over here. "I don't think so, I mean I've been watching him since this morning and... Why are you even asking??" A distressed noise reaches Reg's ears and practically throws himself back to the sink. "Lyan? Are you alright?"  
Lyan doesn't answer, his head above the sink, taking shallow, fast breaths. His throat spasms and he starts retching again.  
Reg lifts the phone back to his ear. "Jin, I swear this is getting really fucking messy. Can't you come over here or something?"  
"Reg, calm down. You can't go panicking with that – with Lyan's stomach already flipping out. Is he vomiting any blood?"  
Reg peers in the sink. "No, I don't think so."  
"Okay, that's good. Ask him if he's peed any blood since yesterday."  
Reg tries to catch Lyan's eye. "Lyan, have you peed any blood?"  
Lyan shakes his head, catching his breath. "He said no."  
"Good. Okay. Just... Just give him something to drink and try to get him to sit down again. I'll try to be as fast as I can." Reg hears Jin sigh on the other end of the phone. "Jeez, the things I do for you."  
"I'm sorry," apologizes Reg.  
"It's nothing. I'm going right now, be there in two secs." Jin hangs up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin.  
> Yeah so... It's been quite a long time since I posted. I hope you enjoyed this chapter which, I hope you noticed, is longer than the ones before. More words to read and enjoy! Yay!  
> Anyway, I'm so sick right now, my voice is gone and I feel like I'm coughing up my lungs every five minutes. F you, cold weather.  
> Thanks for reading, leave a comment if you feel like it!


	12. Mutual Discovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jin and Lyan meet. Good thing Reg is there to calm things down.

By the time Jin gets there, Reg has managed to steer Lyan to the stool while avoiding any kind of physical contact that could distress the boy even further. The nausea has calmed down but Lyan is left a bit shaky and pale. Reg keeps apologizing and saying that he shouldn't have insisted until the front door slides open, revealing a slightly unnerved Jin. He follows Mizzie to the kitchen where he finally meets Lyan for the first time.

Jin can tell right away the Lyan is underweight, the hoodie isn't big enough to hide that. His copper brown hair is a mess and spiky with sweat, its shine dull and unhealthy. Jin can also see, despite the injuries, that Lyan's face has sharp features and that he could be rather good-looking if he didn't look like a total wreck. His nose is still smeared with red under the right nostril, the dried blood reaching down to his lips, their white tinge probably due to the exertion of throwing up. Despite all of these observations, and even though Reg has already talked about them time and time again, Jin is interested in the intensity of the boy's green eyes the most. Jin can feel the tension in those eyes, despite their tired core, despite the dark bags under them, despite the pallor of the kid's skin, despite the hollowed cheekbones. Everything in Lyan's stance is screaming "sick, exhausted, hurt, unstable" yet he looks like he's about to jump up and run at any moment.  
Aside from the pretty eyes, Jin doesn't get what's so special about the kid.

Lyan lifts his head towards the sound of footsteps and the first words that come to his mind when he sees the guy in the doorway is "young" and then "pretty". He can't tell if he's older than him or not, but he'd say probably. He has a small and slender figure, and he seems rather fit and collected. There is no doubt that he's got some Asian blood in his veins, with very pale skin, jet-black hair, delicate features and lightly slanting eyes. His serious, downturned lips give him a self-confident air, and when the stranger decides to enter the room at a steady pace, he approaches the pair with unwavering black eyes. He seems calm, but Lyan isn't very comfortable with another person in the house.  
Reg seems to understand. "Lyan, it's okay, that's Jin. He's a friend."  
Jin stops walking. "Hi. Reg called me to check on you."  
Lyan can't help feeling surprised at the sound of his voice: velvety, modulated and quiet, very soft for a man's voice. Kind of pleasing, actually.

Jin stays where he is, waiting for a reaction from Lyan. He can see that the kid isn't someone who lowers his guard very often. The tension in his shoulders, the wide personal space, the watchful eyes; all the signs point to a constant awareness of his surroundings.  
Mizzie seems to sense the situation is a bit tense and slips between Lyan's legs. The boy quickly glances down at her as Mizzie begins to purr, but he doesn't let go of his stern expression and his eyes snap back to Jin in an instant. The man sighs.  
"Reg. I can't do this if the kid doesn't trust me a little bit. Look at him."

Reg does as told, but Lyan keeps wordlessly staring at the young man without giving him so much as a reaction. Yeah, this isn't going to work. He tries to attract Lyan's attention by talking to him.  
"Look, Lyan, I just want to know what's wrong with you, okay? Jin really isn't going to hurt you. He's just going to do a check-up."  
"What kind of check-up?" Lyan's voice is hoarse because of all the puking he did, but he doesn't care. He keeps his eyes trained on the Asian man.  
Jin sighs. "Relax, kid. I'm just going to see if you're sick or anything like that." He takes a step forward, and Lyan tries not to shrink on the stool.  
Both of the men notice it and Jin stops moving.  
Fuck. They saw it. "What are you going to do to me?" Lyan growls, and if he had any he'd be baring his fangs at Jin. The Asian man raises his hands, not very happy with this situation. "Woah, woah, kid, I am not going to do anything weird to you. Have you never gone to the doctor's before? Pretty much the same-"  
"No." spits Lyan, distrustful as ever. '"Don't come near me."  
Jin stares at the older man. "Reg, are you telling me that you called me out here for this kid? He's not even that sick, if he was he wouldn't be able to be so perfectly annoying. What did you want me to do anyway?"  
Reg pulls away from Lyan to face his friend. "I'm just worried, Jin. Nosebleeds, puking, fever... It can't be good."  
Jin stares at the older man disbelievingly. "You're worried about him?" Reg doesn't answer, but his face tells Jin everything he needs to know. "No way..."  
Jin turns to the kid, trying to see what's so good about him that Reg would care that much. He's just a regular kid, albeit a little roughed up and a bit too thin, but nothing really weird seems to be going on with him. However, if Reg thinks this kid is worth his time, then...  
"All right. I'll try. You, what's your name?" Lyan's eyes keep shooting daggers at him, but he doesn't care. "Come on, answer."  
Reg intervenes. "His name is Lyan. I had to work hard to get his name."  
"Really?" Jin smirks. "Never mind. Lyan, do you eat enough?"  
"Yeah," spits the boy.  
"No," answers Reg at the same time.  
Jin almost laughs when he sees the glare Lyan sends Reg's way.

"Well, Lyan. Seems like you're a liar. But that was already kind of obvious when you answered yes." The boy doesn't answer, so Jin continues. "I'm not going to go easy on you if you don't answer truthfully. I'm doing this for Reg, and Reg wants to know what's wrong with you. If you don't let yourself get examined, I'm just going to do it the hard way." Jin grins. "I can just knock you out and then do my check-up. While you're unconscious."  
The kid's expression flickers. "You won't do that."  
Jin takes the time to mentally decompose the boy's split-second reaction.The kid's eyes looked slightly troubled for a tiny, fleeting moment before they reverted back to their agressive stare. Interesting. The boy knows how to hide his feelings, but it doesn't quite reach the eyes.

"Oh, yes I will," he assures with a grin.  
Reg speaks up again. "Look, Lyan, Jin is saying the truth. I'm not trying to scare you, but he really can do that. If he decided to, I couldn't stop him in time even if I wanted to. He's too fast."  
Lyan doesn't answer. If it's true, then Jin might take advantage of him if he's passed out. He doesn't like the idea at all. And Reg... Well, Lyan isn't sure if he should believe what the man is saying about not being able to stop Jin.  
"If you don't answer in five seconds, I'm knocking you out, kid. I'm warning you," says the man. Lyan narrows his eyes at the Asian. He might be pretty and have a nice voice, but damn he's annoying.  
"All right. Just... Okay."  
"Great."

Jin starts prowling around a very stiff Lyan.  
"From the looks of it, I'd say you're pretty dehydrated since you seem to get nosebleeds a lot. Reg told me it was the case, yet you don't have headaches. And with that fever of yours you've probably been sweating a lot. So try to drink more. You also probably don't eat much."  
He gets closer and reaches for Lyan's hand but Reg warns him: "Don't." Jin looks up at his friend at the same time Lyan pulls his hand away and snarls: "Don't touch me."  
He ignores the boy and speaks to Reg, his expression interrogative. "What is it?"  
The older man frowns. "You heard him. He doesn't want to be touched."  
"Well then how am I supposed to check what's wrong?"  
"I'll kill you if you touch me," growl Lyan.  
Jin straightens at those words and studies the boy's face. Then he just chuckles. "That's cute. You wanna try and take me on?"  
"Jin..." breathes Reg, his voice full of warning.  
Lyan glares at the young man, his hands clenching the sides of his seat. "I'm not _trying_ to do anything. If you touch me I'll kill you."  
"Good luck with that." Jin leans in closer. "You'd be quite at a disadvantage considering I know your weak spots. Like your stomach and nose, since those seem to cause you problems, and that injured wrist of yours." Jin sees the boy's eyes dart to Reg's side, and he adds: "No, he didn't tell me. I guessed that one on my own."

Reg can sense that Lyan is getting increasingly uneasy and upset, so he steps in and pushes Jin away.  
"All right, that's enough you two. Jin, may I remind you that you came here for a reason, not to threaten a boy you just met?"  
Jin smacks his forehead in mock surprise. "Oh that's right! I forgot for a moment, sorry."  
He turns to Lyan and smiles. "Well kid, I just want to check your eyelids and your tongue, maybe your pulse too. It'll probably tell me what I want to know."  
Lyan glares at Jin. "Stop calling me kid."  
"I do what I want, kid. I'm older than you."  
"How can you be sure of that? I didn't tell you my age."  
"No, but that's because I can guess it." Jin's grin is smug. So annoying.  
"Oh yeah?"  
"Yeah. You're what, 16?"  
"..."  
"Haha, I guessed it right!"  
"Shut up." Lyan scowls, and Jin's smirk gets wider.  
"Well if you wanna know, we're not that far apart, you and I. I'm 20."  
"I didn't want to know," growls the boy. He doesn't let it show, but he's actually surprised to know that the Asian is that much older than him. He doesn't look the part.  
"Whatever. Stick out your tongue."  
"No."  
Jin rolls his eyes. "Want me to pull it out for you so I can check anyway?"  
_

"Thanks for coming in the end, Jin."  
Both men stand in the entryway, Reg's hand on his friend's shoulder.  
"No problem, Reg. I'm happy I could help you."  
"So, what's wrong with him exactly?"  
"You didn't follow much of the examination, did you."  
"He probably didn't get anything either. You did use a lot of medical terms and when you didn't you just kept your observations to yourself. I'm thinking you did it on purpose to confuse him, but I'm not tackling that issue right now."  
"Right, well then... Don't nag him about the food, seems like he hasn't been eating well for a long time. He's got a deficiency in several nutrients, probably iron and vitamins, but that's not up to you to fix. It's probably just the way it is for him. Don't force him to eat. Also, he seems pretty dehydrated still, so give him water if you can, I guess. And he probably needs some more rest. The puking... I don't know to what it was due to exactly. He doesn't look like he's actually sick from infection or anything... I'm leaning towards too much stress, but since I don't know him, I can't really tell. At least it stopped. Same with that fever you talked about, it's not that severe, it's just that he's got a high temperature from his body fixing itself. All in all, if you really want to know, I think he's in a general bad state because of his living conditions which don't look all good, but that shouldn't be your problem."  
"Okay. Thanks a bunch."  
"Yeah, no problem big guy." Jin flips the switch next to the doorway, waiting for the door to slide open. He glances in the direction of the kitchen, and sure enough, Lyan is still watching him. He grins at him and waves, but the boy just scowls and disappears back in the kitchen, and Jin turns to face quite a disapproving Reg.  
"Can you stop that?" the older man mumbles, not really expecting the other to comply.  
"Stop what?" answers Jin innocently.  
"Stop annoying him."  
Jin just shrugs and smiles, waving the older man goodbye as he steps out. Reg just shakes his head slowly, a smile slipping on his face despite him, and waves back.  
_

When Reg goes to find Lyan, he finds the kid sitting on the living room's couch and staring at the bookshelves.  
"Lyan?" The boy jumps, and turns to glare at Reg. The older man stops where he is. "What is it? Why the death stare?"  
"Tch." The boy stands up and passes by Reg, not saying a word.  
"Are you mad at me? Did I do something wrong?" Reg turns to follow the boy, and Mizzie trails behind both of them. Reg keeps calling after him. "Lyan, talk to me. Is it because I told Jin to come?"  
Lyan finally whips around, making Reg skid to a halt. "Shut up! I just need some time to think, leave me alone!" Then he stomps into the bedroom and slams the door in Reg's face.  
The older man is a bit taken aback by the boy's sudden change of behaviour. Mizzie weaves herself between his legs, looking up at him worriedly, so he crouches and starts petting her. What is up with Lyan?

Lyan slides down the door, his head in his hands. What's wrong with him? He doesn't usually lose control like that. It's because of Jin... because of Reg. It's just so weird, why... Adults aren't supposed to be that tolerant. He just yelled at the man for no real reason, but Reg isn't trying to force the door open. He said shit to that Asian guy, Jin, and he didn't get hurt. The check-up was okay and not that invasive, since the guy didn't touch him a lot... Although he doubts Jin really is a doctor. If he is... It's shady. He seems way too young to be one, that's for sure. And he's so annoying! How is it even possible for someone like Reg to be friends with someone like Jin? That guy's just plain provocative. But then again, someone as exasperating as Jin probably goes well with a calm person like Reg. Everything about Reg seems calm.  
Jin, however... feels a bit strange to Lyan. He can't quite explain it, but when Jin touched his good wrist to take his pulse earlier, he felt a shiver run down his spine. And it wasn't because of the physical contact. It was something way more abstract, something like a cold warning radiating from the man. Needless to say, he retrieved his wrist from Jin's hand as soon as he could and stopped doubting Reg's earlier words about being unable to stop Jin if need be.  
Despite that feeling, he still sees Jin as incredibly annoying first and formost.

And what about Mizzie, such a strange cat... He's never met a cat with that kind of look before. And her behaviour... Sometimes the cats he comes across are pretty nice and they don't have a problem with being petted, just like Mizzie, but they don't stay long. Mizzie follows Reg around, and even Lyan. He's never seen her alone in one room.

Lyan closes his eyes, burying his head further in his arms. He wishes it was as simple as that, following someone you trust all the time. Always be there for each other. If he could be like Mizzie, live in a nice house, with a nice person. Always warm and comfortable, how nice would it be? And those books, there were so many... But Lyan isn't someone meant to live in such a nice place.  
He stays a bit longer curled up next to the door, squeezing his knees, enjoying the warmth and the feeling of safety.  
Then he lifts his head off of his arms, staring into space. At any rate, staying here isn't a good idea. Although Reg seems nice, he can't be trusted. And Lyan needs to go back home as fast as possible.  
For some reason... He feels sad.  
_

"Old man. I've got to go." Reg spins around on his stool, surprised by the sound of the boy's voice. Lyan is standing in the kitchen's doorway and staring at the older man with tired eyes.  
"Already? But you're not in good shape." Reg's eyes sweep over Lyan's body worriedly. He's still a bit pale, and in the end he hasn't eaten much. "Are you sure?"  
"Yeah." Lyan smiles a fake smile. "I'm totally fine." The boy turns around and starts walking towards the front door. Reg stands up to follow him, Mizzie hot on his trail. The older man's a bit disappointed, and he feels unsure about this, especially after the boy's earlier outburst. And Jin's words about his state... This isn't right. "...Lyan."  
"Yeah?"  
"You're not going to get hurt again, are you?"  
For a moment, Lyan almost thinks that Reg knows what's going on. But it can't be, there's no way. "Old man, what I become has nothing to do with you. I'm really thankful that you let me stay a bit, I really am, but I have to go."

Reg feels the uneasiness emanating from the boy, and he knows it's probably not a good idea to let him go. The problem is, he's basically just a random acquaintance from three years ago. He can't really force the kid to stay. So he steps in front of the door and looks the boy straight in the eye.  
"Listen, Lyan. I don't want you to leave and for us to never meet again."  
The boy lifts an eyebrow, very sceptical about those words. "Why would you not want that?"  
The older man sighs, scratching his neck. "I told you, I don't really know myself. Just want to make sure you're okay." His hand drops, and he just looks hopefully at Lyan. "Just... Please come back soon. Remember that my house is there for you. Okay?"  
"...Okay, I guess." Lyan has his doubts about Reg's intentions, and of course this is too good to be true. But for some reason, it feels good to know. He feels Mizzie brush against his legs and he crouches to pet the cat. "Thanks." He utters the word for both the cat and the man, not daring to look Reg in the eye as he says that. He doesn't like saying his thanks to others, but Reg was so nice to him that he can't just go without saying anything.  
Lyan straightens back up as the door opens, and Reg steps to the side to let Lyan pass. The boy steps froward, pausing shortly in front of Reg as if to say something. Then his head lowers a bit, his shoulders hunch up, and he continues to walk away. Both Mizzie and Reg watch his retreating back with a shared feeling of hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin.  
> I think writing interaction between Jin and Lyan is my new favorite thing. Jin is a lot of fun to write, I hope he's as much fun to read.  
> Thanks for reading, leave a comment if you feel like it!


	13. Hesitant Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyan doesn't stay away for long.

"Huh. So he didn't stay in the end..." Jin nods to himself as he lifts his glass to his lips.  
"Yeah. I wish he did... I've got the feeling he has it real bad. The vibes I got from him when he left... They were weird."  
Jin takes his last sip, sighing. "I'm not surprised. If he told you he was used to getting beat up like that, I'm thinking abuse."  
Reg turns to his friend. "But then shouldn't I have done something else?"  
"When did you start feeling concerned for others, Reg?" Jin's face is serious, there is no trace left of his usual snarky behaviour. This isn't even curiosity. It's like he's stating a fact more than he's asking a question: Reg isn't supposed to care this much about another person.  
"I... Don't know, Jin. I really don't, I already told you."  
"This isn't normal, Reg. I know you care more about other people's well-being than I do, but that kid's problems aren't yours. Do you think you can save every abused kid in this city, in this world? For fuck's sake, Reg, you've seen so many damaged people in your life, it never changed anything for you." Then he turns his head to the side, handing his empty glass to the server passing by them and calling out to the man behind the bar. "Yo, bartender, give me another."  
Reg watches the server take away the glass, watches Jin's hand lower back to the counter, watches the bartender pour amber liquid in a glass, watches the full glass slide across the table top into his friend's hand, all the while staying silent. The other is right, he's never felt like he could change anything for anyone. This is their life. This is their home. That's just the way the world goes, people get hurt and he can't do anything.  
So why? Why this kid?  
"Jin, I don't know. It's just... It's just..." He sighs, unable to continue. He can't find the words to describe this feeling.  
"What, do you think it's fate or some shit like that?" Jin leans back, his black eyes boring a hole in Reg's. "You know that's bull. It's ridiculous."  
Reg rubs his face. "That's exactly what it is."  
"Reg, look, I trust you and your gut feelings, but this? You can't possibly be expecting me to believe that you think this is destiny. It doesn't explain anything about how you feel about that boy. What do you think you can do for him? You don't even really know him."  
"I don't care about that." Jin waits for his friend to elaborate, but Reg stops talking and reaches for his glass.  
"You know what, I don't care anymore. Just do your thing, live your life. If you think he's someone you should care for... Then I won't try to go against it. Just don't expect me to come running over to care for that kid like you did last time. I'm not a goddamn babysitter, and I don't care about what he becomes. Got it?" Of course Jin's natural curiosity makes him feel interested in new people, but hell, not to the point of actually caring for them and their future.  
Reg silently nods, staring off in empty space as he finishes his drink. He's used to Jin being an asshole to other people, so this kind of conversation isn't really anything new. But it's true that his feelings towards Lyan are unusual. He rarely feels this protective about kids. Usually, he does care a bit for them, trying to make them feel better, but he knows he can't do anything, can't change every single life he comes across. Why he wants to change Lyan's so much is a mystery to him, as much as it is to Jin. Nothing can explain it. Nothing rational, at the very least.  
_

He's surprised to see Lyan in front of his door two weeks later. He didn't really expect the boy to come back, even less so soon, though he did hope for it.  
"Lyan?"  
The other shuffles in the doorway. "Yeah... I..." His voice falters, as he lifts his eyes to stare awkwardly and warily at Reg.  
"Oh, no, sorry, come in. I'm just a little surprised, that's all. Didn't think you'd come back."  
"... Sorry, I shouldn't have come." The kid starts to back away, but Reg's arm jerks forward in an attempt to grab Lyan's. He stops short when he remembers that he shouldn't touch the boy.  
"No, it's no problem! Stay, it's fine!"  
The other is plainly hesitant, his expression conflicted. Should he really go inside? Every fiber of his being is screaming that it's dangerous for him to go inside the house of someone he barely met two weeks ago, a person he doesn't know. His instincts have always kept him away from other houses. He doesn't know what Reg's motives are, and there's no doubt he has ulterior motives. Every adult has them.  
Why did he even come here? He lives so far from here... For this. To see... To see Reg? Why?

Reg studies the boy's face, noting that the boy doesn't seem hurt. In fact, it looks like he's recovered from last time. Relief flows through his chest, something he hadn't expected to feel.  
"It's fine, you know. I'm not going to do anything to you." The older man's voice jerks Lyan out of his thoughts, his gaze jumping to Reg's face. "It's just me and Mizzie. She can stay with you if you feel better with her next to you."  
Lyan stands there for a few seconds, debating whether he should try or flee. But then Mizzie appears from behind Reg's legs, an inquisitive look in her bright green eyes. He stares at her. Should he risk it? Isn't he going to come back here anyways? He can't explain why, but he feels drawn to this house and its inhabitants.  
"Mizzie..." He murmurs. She blinks at him, and it's almost like he can see her smile. He looks up at Reg, his voice firmer this time. "Okay. Um... thanks. I guess."  
The older man steps away from the door to let the boy come in. Lyan shoots him a sharp glare. "I can fight, you know. I don't trust you yet, don't try anything funny."  
"I could tell you the same thing. You're the stranger coming into my house."  
Lyan turns away from him, feeling a bit stupid for not thinking about how it looked like the other way around. It's true that despite his age, he could be a threat to the older man.

He honestly doesn't know why he came back. Maybe because he hasn't felt warmth like this in years. Or safety like this in years. Most of all, maybe because the gentleness that there seems to be about Reg is something so rare in Lyan's life.  
Yeah. That's what makes him want to trust Reg: he's gentle. He's careful about touching Lyan. When has it been, the last time someone cared about what he liked and didn't like? It seems like so long ago. He can't remember.  
Wait. He wants to trust Reg? Lyan turns around to look at the older man, who's standing at a safe distance and checking out the books on the shelves.  
But shouldn't he not? Adults are dangerous. His thoughts fly to the back of his head when Reg turns to him, holding three books in his arms.  
"So, Lyan. You want to read these? I don't know if you're really good at reading or not, but you looked like you wanted to read last time."  
He noticed? Lyan frowns. Why is this man paying attention to his tastes? Why is this man paying attention at all to those details? Upon seeing Lyan's expression, Reg hastily starts to justify his actions.  
"Oh, sorry, maybe you didn't want to after all. I just thought, maybe, that you would like it. I just... Yeah, sorry. I'll put them back."  
"No, it's fine. I'm just... Surprised." Lyan shakes his head and steps forward, holding his arms out. "I'll take them."  
Reg hands the books to the boy. "Why surprised?"  
Lyan takes them, checking the covers swiftly as he answers. "Reasons."  
"...Okay." Reg doesn't pry. He gets when he's not supposed to. "You can go read on the couch, if you want. I won't disturb you, I'll just be in the kitchen."  
Lyan nods and he looks down at Mizzie, who is curled around Reg's right leg. Reg smiles at that, but Lyan notices and he glares at him, again.  
"Stop laughing at me."  
Reg's eyes widen. "I'm not!"  
"Tch." Lyan turns away and walks to the couch, plops down on it and opens a book. He doesn't look back at Reg or Mizzie, but Reg sends the cat next to the kid anyways. The kid is so complicated... He almost sighs as he turns away to leave, but stops himself just in time. He doesn't want the kid to take it the wrong way and get angry, or rather... angrier than he already is.  
Jin would probably say he's being too submissive, but Reg just doesn't want Lyan to leave. He feels like maybe, just maybe, the boy would end up trusting him in the end. Why does he want to earn this trust? No idea. The boy seems like he needs shelter, and Reg is ready to give him just that.  
_

Lyan doesn't feel the minutes tick by. It's been a very long time since he's held a book in his hands.  
The beginning is hard to read, and he stumbles upon some words, either for enunciating it or for understanding it. He has to say some out loud sometimes, but always low enough so that Reg doesn't hear him. He knows not being able to read correctly is considered a shame for a lot of people, and he considers himself lucky to know how to read, even if he doesn't have the best reading skills.  
As time goes on, the sentences start making more sense and his reading gets faster, smoother. He can feel the rust on his brain falling away as his eyes get used to the regular reading motion and the black print on white paper. He thoroughly enjoys the feeling of the dry, crisp paper at the tips of his fingers, the soft flap of the pages when they turn, the smell of old books. He can tell they're not often used, with dust flying off and glittering in the sunlight at each new page, but their good shape indicates how treasured they are. Lyan absentmindedly notes that Reg probably doesn't read much.  
All the while, Mizzie purrs next to him, flattened on top of the couch. Lyan doesn't realize it, but he's slowly been leaning in the cushions, closer to the cat.

Reg pulls out the stool from under the table and sits down on it, his phone in his hand while calling Jin. As expected, his friend answers on the first ring.  
"Hey, Reg. What's up?"  
"Lyan came back."  
"Oh. Cool."  
"I just wanted to let you know." Reg can hear typing on the other end of the phone.  
"Well, okay. Done."  
"Yeah..." Reg stays still and silent, listening to Jin work. "So, how'd it turn out for the guy I tracked down? I mean, is he any better? Did you hand him over to the authorities or..."  
"Reg. You're the one who beat him up that bad, why are you asking about how he's doing? This is what I dislike about you. Stop being so irresolute: either you hate him, either you don't, but you can't do both. And for fuck's sake, he's a pedophile, why would you even care about him?"  
"... I know. Sorry."  
"He was doing okay, but we handed him over to the client so we don't know what he's become."  
"...Oh."  
More typing. "Yeah. He's probably dead. One of his victims was the client's daughter."  
"I see." Reg stares out the kitchen's window, rubbing his beard. "Thanks for telling me."  
"I don't get why you need to know."  
"I just... People like him are still human, whether we like it or not."  
Jin doesn't answer, but a faint rustle on the other side of the line indicates his shrugging.

Lyan doesn't get distracted too much from his reading, but there's a brief moment when his attention is pulled towards the sound of Reg's voice in the kitchen, until he realizes he's on the phone. The second time he loses focus on the book is when he hears a metallic clatter coming from the kitchen. This time, he puts his book down and stands up, his body tempted to stretch but his mind telling him not to act too relaxed. He makes his way to the living room's doors to check on what Reg's doing, Mizzie jumping down from the couch and following his tracks.  
When he reaches the kitchen, he sees the man handling some empty plates and food cooking on the stove.  
"What are you doing?"  
Reg looks up from what he's doing after setting the plates down, taking in the two pair of eyes watching him from the doorway.  
"Well, we're going to eat. Thought it was obvious."  
Lyan shakes his head. "I'm not eating. I'll go."  
"What? Already? But it's been..." Reg turns to check the time above the sink and turns back to the boy. "It's not even been three hours. I thought you were staying for the day."  
Lyan lifts an eyebrow. "Why would you think that? I didn't say anything about staying any longer than necessary."  
"Well, you didn't say anything about how long you were staying, either." Reg finishes setting the table, putting down the last fork. He's got a point, but...  
"That doesn't change the fact that I need to go."  
"Oh come on, Lyan. I made food for you too, you know." Reg frowns. "Don't tell me you're not hungry."  
"Well, I'm not." Lyan lifts his chin defiantly. "And you're not going to make me eat."  
"You know, that's a bit mean. Don't you want to, at least, take some home? I mean, I can't eat all of this on my own." He could always give it to Jin, but still... Reg doesn't really like the idea of Lyan not eating anything before going.  
"Absolutely not." Lyan feels just a little bit bad when he sees the older man's face fall at the flat-out refusal. "I'm not taking anything back with me." He hesitates shortly. "Sorry."  
"Can I... Can I at least have a reason?" Reg looks really dejected, but Lyan isn't someone who can really allow himself to care about hurting others. He's already busy not getting hurt himself.  
"No. I'm going now." He turns around, almost tripping on Mizzie, but the cat saw it coming and is already out of his way.  
"... Alright." Lyan can hear the man following him to the entryway. "I guess you're sure about it."  
Reg stays silent as Lyan pulls his shoes back on. "Do you think you'll come back?"  
"Maybe." Lyan searches for the switch, having a bit of trouble remembering where it was.  
"It's over there." Reg points to the boy's right. Mizzie is faster and jumps on the shelf next to it to flip the switch. Lyan almost smiles at her, but fortunately, his muscles aren't too used to it and he doesn't. Reg doesn't seem to notice Lyan's slip, which is a good thing.  
He steps out in the cold, the sky gray with thick clouds, the roads grim and dull. Nothing at all like the inside of Reg's home.  
Honestly, he doesn't want to go back, but he's got no choice. So he starts walking.  
"See you, Lyan." Lyan's steps falter at the sound of Reg's voice behind him, and he almost turns around: but then he just burrows his chin in his scarf and his pace picks up again. He's gone in a matter of seconds.  
___

Lyan comes back ten days later. The same thing happens, he gets down to reading and Reg just goes on with his own life. Mizzie stays by Lyan's side, and Reg doesn't try to intervene: if Mizzie feels like staying with Lyan, then so be it.  
Lyan's visits become more and more frequent, regular. He never stays too long, so Reg guesses the boy has a strict curfew or something along the lines. He doesn't ask about Lyan's life, because whenever he comes close to, the boy just shuts him out. Reg discovers soon enough that Lyan is an expert at avoiding personal questions, even if it's never in a subtle manner.

Sometimes, when he walks across the entryway and passes the living room's double doors, his eyes catch the top of Lyan's hair protruding from behind the couch, next to Mizzie's content face. At times like these, he often catches himself thinking that maybe Lyan will turn out just like Mizzie. Maybe letting him live his life for a while will allow them to get a bit closer. But even if Mizzie is a special cat, she's not nearly as complicated as a human individual. As long as she gets fed and has a warm home, she's happy. Lyan, on the other hand, won't even eat.  
Reg doesn't understand why, because he's already seen the look of ravenous hunger on the young boy's face when he comes to the kitchen to tell him that he's leaving. It always lasts just a short moment and it's almost unnoticeable, but Reg can see things others can't, and the hunger roaring in the boy's stomach is one of those things. However, whenever he tries to convince the other to eat, the boy ignores his words and turns to leave. For now, Reg has decided to stop insisting on such things. At least, Lyan has come to trust the water Reg gives him to drink.

Both Lyan and Jin meet again during one, then two, then several of their visits to Reg's house. Lyan is practically hissing and spitting at the young man, which doesn't really surprise the latter. In fact, Jin quickly reverts to his provocative habits despite Reg's disapproval, discovering in the boy a new source of entertainment.  
The Asian man is not remotely close to feeling attached to Lyan, but he does feel more interested in him than before. Both adults notice how Lyan is jumpy, wary, constantly nervous and snappy, but they also notice that he seems to feel okay when he's on the couch next to Mizzie, and that he looks less sickly than three months ago when the three of them met. They don't know what it's due to, maybe because of the season change or because Reg is offering him some kind of second home, but the bags under the boy's eyes are lighter and his nosebleeds are less frequent. Lyan's not in the greatest shape, but he's better, and just for that, Reg feels satisfied.

For Lyan, Reg's house is somewhere he can breathe, where he's shielded from the outside world. The books opened a new universe for him, completely different from his bleak and painful life. It's already happened, of course, for him to come to Reg's and the house being locked with no one to answer and let him in. He doesn't really feel curious about Reg's life at first, but when he notices that Reg doesn't really have a pattern to his leaves and that the man stays home a lot, he starts feeling interest for the man's hobbies. Does he have a job? Does he have family?  
He's also noticed how close Reg seems to be to that man, Jin. What are they to each other? They seem like friends, but not some light friendship where you just get along with the other; it's more like companions, like they've lived through a lot of shit together. Sometimes they'll speak in hushed tones, and Lyan gets the distinct feeling he isn't to meddle with their talk. Besides, he's too far from the kitchen to listen in on them.

Of course, he doesn't like Jin. The guy is too annoying and he never minds his own business. However, Lyan has come to appreciate Reg to the point of trusting him on some points, like being handed stuff (except food), answering certain questions, and the likes. He's come to tell himself that if Jin is Reg's friend, then there's probably a good reason to that. Even Reg looks annoyed by Jin's antics sometimes, so that means he's not some super patient freak who never gets cross. He's just got good tolerance to bullshit. Besides... Lyan remembers the expression on Reg's face when he'd told him about being hurt on regular basis. That expression sends shivers down his spine when he thinks about it. It's very likely that Reg can be dangerous if he wants.  
Lyan doesn't ask about anything related to Reg's personal life because, he's got to admit, he likes this kind of comfortable distance between the both of them. Reg quickly stopped asking questions, unlike that asshole Jin. So for some reason, Lyan has come to trust that Reg won't cross any lines with him, that he'll let him keep some breathing space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin.  
> I think I'm a bit too invested in writing my stories... I can't seem to stay away for long, it's just too tempting to return to them. I can't keep myself from reading and rewriting them, when I should be studying... Oopsie doodles.  
> I don't even know if you guys are still enjoying the story, but, well, I'm still going to write it because I've got so much planned out for this universe it would be a waste not showing it to anybody. I just hope I'm not the only one to genuinely like it.  
> Well, I'll stop my heartfelt ramblings for now. See you next chapter, and of course, leave a comment if you feel like it!


	14. Empty Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyan doesn't want to go to Reg's in his state, so he tries to find food and somewhere to sleep in.  
> The weather doesn't help, either.

The air is too heavy today for Lyan to walk around, he can feel it. It smells like some bad weather's coming soon, and he doesn't like that. He doesn't like that at all, because it means he'll either have to hide away in his spot and get drenched from the rain, or go back home where it's warmer but dangerous.  
He's not sure he can allow himself to stay outside with the state he's been in for the past two days. He probably ate something bad, no doubt that burger from the diner he wasn't used to going. Why did he even change diners in the first place? Probably because he wanted to change up his diet. That'll teach him. He should just stick to the usual.  
The food hadn't felt safe to eat at all, but at that time he'd been too hungry to care. It didn't take long for him to regret eating the expired food: in just a few hours, he started feeling crippling pain in his stomach and puked right after that. He had to change spots to avoid dirtying his favourite hideout with his vomit. Fortunately for him, it didn't last that long, but it left him extremely weak the next day, so he had to go back home. He wanted to be sure no one would get the jump on him in the streets, and he knew he wasn't strong enough to defend himself if things got bad. He stayed there for the night, but he wasn't allowed to stay there too long so he took off at dawn.  
He feels better now, that's for sure, but... He's not as healthy as before eating the burger, he can feel it. And rain isn't exactly the best thing for recovery.

Whatever.  
It would be suicidal to stay outside in bad weather with this kind of health, moreso than going home. Besides, even if he doesn't want to, he needs to eat. Maybe he'll get something there, something that isn't expired yet. Stale, but not expired.

He pulls the hood of his sweater over his head, wincing when his knuckles brush against one of the bruises on his face, and starts heading towards his house. He can't go to Reg's, even if he wishes he could. He's been avoiding going to Reg's when the bruises are too visible, because he doesn't want to have the old man fussing over him like last time, and because he gets the feeling it might be the start of an endless avalanche of questions if he goes there in such a state. He knows Reg's been avoiding, or rather restraining himself from asking him about his lifestyle. Going there injured would be like holding a giant neon sign saying "Ask away".

In fact, he still can't wrap his head around his actions that first day he spent at Reg's. He ate food there, he slept there, he took a bath there and let a grown man touch his skin.  
Why?  
How is it possible? How did it all come so easily?  
It almost felt natural for the man to care for him. Natural.  
How could it be natural, wonders the boy, when he had to watch his own back every single minute of his goddamned life. There had to be a reason. There just had to be.  
It drives him insane not to know for sure why this happened. Oh, he's got some clue to what's going on, that somehow he's become so dependent of his sixth sense that when it showed him that Reg was good he actually believed it right away. Reg probably is a truthfully good person, there's no denying that possibility after everything he did for Lyan.  
But the boy cannot simply forget how dangerous others can be, especially grown men. He did forget that one time at Reg's, and his injuries probably didn't help him either then, but he really doesn't want it to happen again. As much as he liked the bath, the bed and the soup, he can't allow himself to let his guard down so much again. He can't just give in to temptation. It's too dangerous.

That's another reason for why he doesn't go there injured. He's afraid that if he does, he might accept Reg's care again. The thing is, he can't deny it, it felt good to be cared for. It felt good for someone to worry about his state. It felt good to have Reg nearby.  
In fact, it still does. Knowing that Reg is in the kitchen while Lyan is reading in the living room is a comforting thought, and whenever Reg gets physically closer, the boy feels flooded with an inexplicable feeling of warmth and safety.

It sounds crazy, Lyan knows it does, but he can feel it in his body when he's safe or not. He calls it his sixth sense, but he knows it's something more than just a sense. Usually, it shows him how, when and where to feel danger, and the most useful aspect of it so far has been knowing when someone is a threat to him. It's incredibly useful in altercations as well, because he knows where the next blow is coming from. He can basically predict his enemy's moves. He's experienced its usefulness in the dark more than once, and even when he can't see or hear anything, he can sense the threats around him.  
Of course, everything comes with a price. Using this sense correctly requires a minimal level of concentration to avoid getting overrun by the five "normal" senses, which makes him jumpy, extremely nervous and almost constantly tired. However, that's also the case when he doesn't focus, probably due to the fact that he can't properly eat or sleep anyway, so he prefers using it to its full potential- which means using it all the time.  
It's always a bit different in every situation, but he instinctively knows how to interpret the signs. He hasn't managed to find an explanation for why it fails him when it's his father, but that's the only person it doesn't work for. So on the plus side, it works for everyone else.  
However, it's rarely shown him a situation where he was safe. Not like this.

His mind's meanderings go on for a while and have led him to thinking about Jin and Mizzie when he finally crosses the boundary of his father's territory. He pushes the thoughts away and concentrates on feeling out the place.  
He doesn't sense anything, but he does smell perfume when he climbs on the porch, and it's definitely a woman's.  
He makes a face. _Did he bring a slut home again?_  
Maybe this isn't the best time to go in there. He brings his hand up to his face, covering the bruises littering his skin.

But then again... Lyan looks up at the sky, observing the menacing clouds gathering above. He lowers his head back down and stares at the door. Yeah, he can't stay out much longer. It's going to rain soon.  
He steps up to the door, and as his hand touches the doorknob he can feel his heart rate picking up speed. He doesn't want to go in there... With a bit of luck, his father will be in his room and he won't have to cross anyone's path. He'll just try to go upstairs as discreetly as possible.  
He turns the doorknob and slowly opens the door, cautiously listening to the sounds in the house.  
_Shit_.  
They're right next to the living room, he can hear them talking. His father's gonna see him.

His father's not the one to notice the door opening, though. It's the woman.  
He hears pointy heels knock loudly against the wooden floor and his heart skips a beat when he realizes they're coming straight for him. He tries to close the door as quickly and quietly as possible but the door is yanked open and he finds himself face to face with a half-naked and battered woman.  
She seems to be of the twisted kind, unsurprisingly. His father has always liked them damaged and unstable, and Lyan always feels a bit frightened by those women who stare at him with crazy eyes and sharpened nails. Right now he feels scared out of his wits and frozen in place, her stare pinning him down like a bug. He could make a run for it, but his brain's orders don't reach his legs. He knows his father is about to appear behind her, and he really, really would like to avoid that.  
She snorts, the movement making the bruise next to her eye twitch slightly, and her bloody lips start moving: "Didn't tell me you had a kid."  
Lyan hears his father's muffled voice from beyond the living room. "Just make 'im go away, I dun'ave time for his shit right now." He sounds drunk. That would explain the state the woman's in.

She looks at him with a scornful gaze.  
He looks at her with a blank a face as he can manage.  
"You heard him, boy. Leave."  
She doesn't feel like an imminent danger to him, but she's definitely not a person to be trusted. Still, seeing her with those bruises and scratches... She looks used to this kind of treatment.  
He's like her. Bruises and scratches are part of their lives.  
Suddenly rain seems to be the least of his problems right now, and he takes a step back before his father thinks she's taking too long and decides to hurt them both.  
She starts pushing the door shut and he watches her, and before he can stop himself he says in a low voice, as if speaking to himself: "Be careful."  
The woman seems to hear him and stills slightly, but she doesn't make eye contact and the door is finally closed in his face. Lyan is left standing in front of the door, listening to the rustle of the dry, dead blades of grass in the field.

_Now what?_

It suddenly dawns on him that he hasn't eaten for a while and that his stomach is screaming for food. He should try to find some first, then get a shelter. There's no point in trying to get it from his father now.  
He sighs wearily and heads out of the field into the street, walking in the direction of his usual diner. The air is getting thicker with the threat of an impending storm, and he picks up the pace. The first drops of water hit the grey cement of the buildings as he catches a glimpse of the diner's decrepit billboard, and he curses under his breath. He has to hurry, or the food won't be edible.

When he finally finds a semblance of food, he hastily retrieves it from the bin and turns back to go find a shelter. He walks for a few minutes, but soon he feels tingling in the back of his head and he senses someone not too far away from him. He halts and looks around, holding the food under his clothes. It doesn't take long for him to notice the hobo behind him. He steps back.  
"You again. What do you want?" he snarls.  
The man's eyes widen and he holds out his hands in a gesture of peace. "I don't want nothin', don't be scared."  
"Bullshit," spits Lyan. "I know you want something from me. You're not gonna have it."  
"A'right, a'right, I jus' want ya food," drawls the man as he takes a step closer to the boy.  
"Don't come closer," warns Lyan as his eyes narrow in a wary glare.  
"Give it t' me, boy," insists the man, and his presence is getting more and more menacing.  
"Go fuck yourself," growls Lyan, and the man's eyes narrow in turn.  
"You little..."  
The man lunges towards Lyan and the boy narrowly dodges him, spinning to the side. He sees the man's hands curl up into fists and he lets go of his food to raise his arms in a defensive stance, avoiding the man's punch in the nick of time. Now that he's closer to the man, Lyan notices his eyes are injected with blood, and his snarling mouth uncovers yellowed teeth. He seems to be in a worse state than the other times... The boy doesn't have the time to study the man any more than that, sensing another incoming punch, and he dodges that as well. The man looks enraged, and Lyan knows he should put an end to this before he gets too tired.  
His own fist flies towards the man's face, who obviously expected the counterattack and easily ducks Lyan's attempt to hurt him. What he didn't expect, however, is the kick Lyan sends between his legs. The man howls in pain and stumbles, a moment of weakness that the boy uses to place a hit in his teeth. The hobo's head jerks back and Lyan sends another punch, this time in the stomach, and the man falls to his knees. He doesn't have the time get back up, Lyan smashes his foot against the man's face before he can push himself off the ground and he reels back, hitting the ground with a thump. Lyan steps over to the side to pick up the food he dropped and stares at the man in contempt, holding the soggy bread in his hand.  
"Listen dude, just 'cause I'm small doesn't mean I'm easy to rob. You get your ass beat every time, don't you get at least that?"  
"Go... fuck y'self," mutters the man, covering his bloody nose and mouth with his hand.  
Lyan shrugs, pulls back his wet hair with one hand and throws the food towards the man. It lands at his feet with a splat. "Well, now the food is bad for both of us. Good job, you genius. You can eat it if you want, but good luck with that."  
He wipes his hands on his pants and spins on his feet, leaving the alley.

He walks under the rain for an hour, trying to find a shelter that's not entirely soaked and cold. His clothes rapidly get drenched, and he crosses many other wet, errant individuals who just like him, are trying to find a dry spot to hide in. Luckily, he doesn't encounter anyone else with bad intentions, they all mind their own business. That doesn't change the fact that he's unable to find somewhere safe, out of the way of the relentless downpour.  
He starts shivering, the cold sensation of his soaked clothes piercing through his thin body. His feet slow down, and he stops walking. His shoulders are hunched under the heavy drops of rain.  
He could sleep in a wet spot, but he knows it would be detrimental to his health.  
Besides, he wants to eat. All the food he could've found must be wet and tasteless by now.  
He wants to be warm, and he's not going to find it here.  
He wants to be safe.

Lyan looks up at the grey sky, squinting as the raindrops hit his injured face.  
He wants to see Reg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin.  
> First glimpse of Lyan's father. You probably have a certain image of him in your mind, don't you? Well, I'd love to know what it is. What you think of him will probably change later on, it's bound to be interesting. And you got to see how good of a fighter Lyan really was in this chapter, so I hope you felt satisfied visualising him as he beats someone's face into the ground (poor hobo though, he's just trying to survive as well).  
> Thanks for reading, and leave a comment if you feel like it!


	15. Difficult Agreement

Reg looks away from his computer screen with a sigh, leaning against the couch. Mizzie watches him with curious eyes, perched up on one of the bookshelves. He frowns at her with a puzzled look.  
"How did you get up there?"  
The cat blinks innocently and then curls up to lick its fur, as if the question doesn't concern her, so Reg looks back at the screen and stares blankly at it. He feels bored. Jin doesn't need him to do anything, and he himself doesn't want to go see the team and what they're up to anyway. It's been a while since Lyan's come around, and he has the feeling that the boy may have tried coming here while he was off to work. It would explain why it's been so long, at any rate.

Suddenly Mizzie's head jolts and he looks up at her again, noticing her pricked ears and alert gaze. He doesn't need to ask her what's wrong, he already knows it means that there's someone at the door. The cat jumps down from the shelf and trots out of the living room, so Reg sets his laptop to the side and follows her to see who it might be. It has to be someone they know, considering the cat's calm behaviour, and he's pretty sure it's Lyan since Jin is on a job.

By the time Reg steps into the entryway, Mizzie is already flicking the switch. The door slides open, revealing a drenched and shivering Lyan. The boy steps inside as soon as the door's opening is wide enough for him to pass, and he immediately glares at Reg.  
"I know I look like a rat that just crawled out of sewer, so don't say it. Tell me Jin's not here."  
Reg shakes his head. "Well, no, but..."  
"Good," mutters Lyan as he pulls off his hood.  
"What happened to you?" asks the man in a concerned voice, taking in the boy's black eye and the bruises on his brow.  
"Nothing." Lyan pushes his way past the older man, checking the kitchen anyway. There's no one else, and he internally sighs in relief. Not sure he could stand Jin's mocking face if he was there.  
"Did you get hurt by someone again?" insists Reg, his voice following the boy as he makes his way in the living room. "Was it the same person as last time?"  
"It's fine, Reg. Drop it." Lyan sits down on the couch, his movements somewhat jerky. "I don't want to talk about it."

But Reg isn't letting the subject go. He rounds the couch and crouches in front of the boy, waiting for Lyan to look at him. The kid stays silent and reaches for the book lying next to Reg's laptop, but the older man pins it down to the table.  
Lyan's head snaps up and he glares at Reg. "Let me read."  
"I need to know what happened to you."  
"Tch." Lyan crosses his arms and stares at Mizzie, ignoring the man.  
"Lyan," Reg sighs, "talk to me."  
The boy doesn't budge and keeps staring the wall down. He doesn't even blink.  
Reg tries again. "I told you I wanted you to be okay. Please tell me who did this to you."  
"Well _I_ ," Lyan snarls, his eyes shooting daggers at Reg, " _I_ told you that I was used to it, and I don't want to tell you anything about it."  
"Lyan... I just-"  
"Oh, fuck off." Lyan spits, as he goes to stand up from the couch. "I knew it was a bad idea to come here. Move."  
Reg shakes his head. "No. Tell me first."  
" _Reg_." Lyan's eyes clash with his and the older man winces with the tone of the boy's voice. "I'm not telling you anything about this, ever. I don't _want_ to. I don't know anything about you, and I don't want you to know anything about me."  
The man looks away, unable to withstand Lyan's intense gaze. "... I know. I know you don't want us to get too close, but that doesn't change the fact that if you'd let me, I'd try to make your life better."  
"You already have. You can't do any more."  
Reg looks back at the boy, feeling the urge to protest, but his words die at the back of his throat when he sees the look on Lyan's face. The boy goes silent as well, his green gaze latched onto Reg's. An undescribable feeling spreads through both of them. Sadness... Maybe longing.  
"I could, if you'd let me."  
"I don't need that," answers Lyan.

The boy knows he's lying to Reg and to himself. He'd love for his life to change, but Reg is just one man. What can he possible hope to accomplish? Lives can't be changed just like that. They don't live in a fairy tale.  
He looks down at his hands, regretting his decision to come here despite his own mind's warnings. "...I think I'll go. I won't come back in this state anymore."  
"Lyan, don't say that. I'd rather you come here, when you're in a bad state, rather than stay outside, wherever you usually stay. I..." Reg straightens, rubbing his face with his hand. "I'm sorry I pried. I won't anymore, alright? Maybe we should make a deal or something."  
Lyan leans back in the couch, cautiously nodding at Reg's proposal. "Okay, and... what would that be?"  
"Let's see... Then instead of telling me where your bruises come from, tell me why you won't eat my food."  
The boy sighs heavily. "Of course you'd ask me that." He glances up at Reg. "I already told you I don't play by the rules..."  
"Don't do that now, please. You can't." Reg's lips are set in an unhappy line, his arms crossed on his chest.

Lyan sighs. "...Okay. It's just... Drinking is okay because I can kinda see if you put something in there, yeah?" He gives the man a wary glance, afraid he might be upsetting him. "More than food..." He can see Reg is understanding where he's going with this, because his eyes are widening.  
"I would _never_ put drugs in your food, Lyan! Never!" Reg exclaims in a horrified voice. "Shit, I knew you didn't completely trust me, but drugs in your _food_?! I thought we were a bit beyond that! Am I a psychopath to you?"  
"I'm sorry, okay!" Lyan retorts defensively. "I just... I know you wouldn't give me drugs without my consent, but still, maybe you could be trying to get me to trust you for some whatever-the-fuck reason, I don't know!"  
"Well of course I want you to trust me, but it's not a bad thing! I just want you to feel safe here, I don't have any ulterior motive to my acts!" answers Reg as he straightens and steps away from the boy.  
"But why?" Lyan's question sounds a bit desperate, even to himself. "Why would you even want that? What would it bring you? What would it change for you if I felt safe?"  
"I don't know! I don't _know_! I just, I-" Reg turns away, exasperated by his own struggle to find the right words. "I just want to make your life better, why do I need to justify that to everyone? Can't I...." He swings around again, his eyes sad and upset. "Can't I just simply wish for your well-being?"  
"But why _me_? I don't understand! I..." Lyan shakes his head. The uncomprehension is driving him crazy. He just doesn't get this man. "I don't understand."  
"Yeah." Reg's smile is bitter. "I figured you wouldn't get it. You wouldn't get me. I don't even get me myself." He rubs his face with his hand once again, sighing. "Look... I just want you to know that I'm here if you have any problems. I'm not going to hurt you. I don't ever want to hurt you. Can you please believe me, at least for that?"  
Lyan stares at the tall man in front of him, a man waiting for his answer. He'd love to trust him, but his whole life is built on suspicion, pain, and vigilance: how is he supposed to change the way he views things? He can't just suddenly decide to trust, it's not that simple.

Reg understands that the step is just too high for Lyan when the boy keeps staring at him silently, so he tries to make it easier. "Let's just... You know what, at least eat what I make for you. You can watch me pepare it, that way you'll be sure I'm not trying to drug you or anything like that. Even do it like the first time you came here, I'll taste it before you do. Is that better?"  
Lyan thinks to himself for a bit more, then he nods, slightly.  
"Okay, good." The man's shoulders visibly sag with relief, and Lyan isn't sure he made the best decision. But then again... He gets the feeling that if he wants to keep this shelter, both he and Reg need to reach a compromise. So a change was bound to happen anyway.  
"There's one thing I don't get, though," adds Reg. "Why did you eat what I gave you the first time you came here?"  
The question catches Lyan by surprise and he stares wordlessly at the man. How is he supposed to explain that?  
"...I don't know. Guess I was just too out of it to react," he answers.  
It's only half true, but he can't tell the older man that it was because he didn't sense any danger. That just sounds ridiculous, and he himself doesn't completely understand how his instincts work.  
".... Right." The man doesn't seem convinced, but he doesn't try to go any further, a choice for which Lyan is thankful. "Then you should go change your clothes and I'll be in the kitchen. We've been talking for quite a while, I think you should eat something."  
"I'm not changing," refuses the boy right away.  
Reg frowns. "You're drenched, Lyan. You're going to catch a cold if you stay like that."  
"I'm not changing," he repeats with a firm voice.  
The man sighs. "I take it you're not willing to make a deal for that, are you?"  
"I'm not. I'm going to eat your food and I think that's enough change for today."  
"...All right."  
_

Lyan turns out to have great interest in Reg's cooking, however mediocre it may be. The boy hides it well and nothing shows in his expression, as usual, but Reg notices how his eyes follow each and every one of his movements. He turns around once and tries to involve Lyan in the preparation process, but when he asks if the boy wants to help, Lyan refuses with a curt shake of the head. Reg doesn't insist and goes back to chopping up carrots on his own, knowing that insisting isn't a great way to get Lyan to act positively.

He soon finishes cutting the carrots in pieces and dumps everything in the pot with the salt, spices and cream, turns the stove on and then steps over next to Lyan, leaning against the table. The boy doesn't say anything, so he doesn't either. The atmosphere is quiet, but not uncomfortable. He understands why the boy wouldn't want to talk right now. At first his gaze switches frequently from the pot to the boy and the other way around, but he soon stops checking for any reactions from Lyan and settles on gazing at the pot. He doesn't stop thinking about the boy's wet clothes, however, and it still disturbs him. He doesn't get why Lyan would want to keep cold, damp layers of clothes on his skin, but he can imagine there must be a reason. He just doesn't know what kind of reason would induce such a strange choice.

When enough time has gone by, Reg steps back up to the pot and checks if the cooking is done, then removes it from the stove. He takes out two dishes and sets them on the table, then asks the boy to set the forks and knives while he takes ham out of the fridge. He goes to get a chair from the living room so that both of them have a seat, and when he's done with that they finally settle down to eat. Reg lets the boy take a serving of carrots before him. The air is tense, and Reg pretends that he's not looking at Lyan when he lifts his fork to his lips. 

Lyan mouth closes around the fork and he tastes his first safe, consistent and warm meal in years. He's not feeling nauseous, he doesn't sense any danger. The food tastes extremely good. In fact, he might be feeling a bit overwhelmed by the sensation of eating such a great meal. So much so that he can feel his nose tingle, and he's not sure if it's because the food is too hot or if it's because of something else entirely.

No, it's definitely because the food is too hot.

The tension in the kitchen scatters as soon as he swallows the first bite, and the rest of the meal goes on in a comfortable and quiet atmosphere, save for the sounds the boy makes while he wolfs down his plate.  
Mizzie lies next to Lyan's stool and gazes up at the boy, her eyes two satisfied slits as she purrs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin.  
> Back to school for me, but I tried updating while I could.  
> In other news, I finally got around to drawing Lyan! Yay! I posted the drawing on DeviantArt, so check it out and tell me what you think of it.  
> Thanks for reading, leave a comment if you feel like it!


	16. Birthday Boy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reg wants to give Lyan a birthday present.

Despite the slight bump that reaching a compromise causes in both of their routines, Reg and Lyan soon return to their comfortable coexistence in the man's house; the only thing that changes is that Lyan feels a bit more at ease and slightly more open about coming here injured and eating the food Reg makes for him. Reg is pretty satisfied with himself for insisting so much, even if Lyan is still a bit reluctant to eat with him. He only eats here when he's very very hungry, and Reg feels frustrated each time the boy refuses to eat even though the man can very well see that Lyan wants to. It's like the boy waits to be practically starving to death before he accepts any kind of food. It drives Reg crazy.  
Despite Lyan's self-imposed restrictions, Reg is proud of the way their relationship progresses overall. The boy seems to trust him a lot more than he used to, and even if Reg feels extremely happy about it, he hides it as best as he can. Whenever Reg shows too much happiness, it seems to disgust the boy; he's a bit like Jin in that regard. Reg sometimes feels like the only one he's allowed to show his happy self to is his cat.

Reg also has some self-imposed restrictions, and the most important one is to never ask Lyan about his injuries or his life out of Reg's house. It's the equivalent of a landmine in their relationship.  
That's why he can't ask Lyan why he's feeling so down when both the older man and Jin notice the boy's recurring bad mood. They don't notice a pattern at first, but Reg sees Lyan so often that he soon realizes something: the times when the boy is in a particularly bad mood don't happen completely at random. It's a bit irregular, but he notices that it happens at least twice a month. When it happens, Lyan isn't just in a bad mood: he's a lot less talkative, a lot less cooperative, and shuts himself off from the people around him. He even tends to ignore Mizzie when he's got that kind of behaviour going on. He also wears a scarf when that happens, notices Reg, and if his memory isn't failing him, it's the same scarf that he was wearing on their very first encounter. A dark blue tattered scarf. 

Recently, Lyan has been in that kind of mood a lot more often than usual. Reg feels a bit worried about him, and one day he calls Jin over to talk about it. Despite his blunt attitude and sharp words, Jin is the kind of person who has an easier time understanding others, which is why Reg asks him if he can shed some light on the boy's worrying behaviour. They talk about it for a while, but it's tough even for Jin, considering how little they know about Lyan.  
The clock ticks through the silence settling over the kitchen, when Jin speaks again. "I wonder when his birthday is? I know, it's kind of random, but maybe presents could make him feel a bit better."  
Reg's eyebrows skyrocket. "You'd give him a present? I didn't think you cared about him that much."  
Jin laughs. "I never said I'd give him anything."  
"Oh, okay. Makes sense." Reg's hand lifts up to rub his beard. "But you're right, it could be an interesting idea."

Both of the men decide to head to the living room and disturb Lyan to ask him when his birthday is.  
He doesn't react at first when he hears the question and his gaze stays focused on the book he's reading. He doesn't really remember when his birthday is supposed to be. He hasn't celebrated his birthday for years now, in fact he never gave it much thought. He just likes to know how old he is because it gives his life a bit of a rythm, and usually the mark is november. He doesn't know why it's that month of the year, but he uses it to know when a year has passed.

In fact, it's funny how the only thing that lets him know time is passing is the calendar hanging in the stairway of his father's home. Why is it that his father takes the time to flip the pages?

Despite a lot of resisting and a lot of glaring, Lyan ends up telling them that his birthday isn't that far off from the actual date.  
"Twentieth of november," he answers Reg.  
The older man looks at Jin and smiles, then back at Lyan. "Hey, that's funny, you're born just one month before Jin! Your birthdays aren't that far away from each other."  
Jin and Lyan simultaneously roll their eyes and sarcastically answer: "Oh yeah, that's super funny."  
They both stop, surprised to hear an echo to their words. Jin is the first one to react and he grins widely at Lyan, but the boy scowls at him.  
"Why do _you_ even care? I kind of understand for Reg, but you?"  
Jin just shrugs. What's the point of explaining when there's nothing to explain? 

The boy's sour expression seems to get even darker at Jin's nonchalance, but Lyan doesn't say anything more. Instead, he closes the book and stands up.  
Reg is the one to answer his question, following the boy out of the living room. "We just thought it would be interesting to celebrate your birthday."  
"Interesting?" Lyan lifts an eyebrow. "How is that _interesting_? Don't bother, it's not worth your time."  
Reg frowns. "It could be something fun to do."  
Lyan throws on his sweater. "Don't know if you've noticed, Reg, but fun isn't exactly my kind of thing."  
"Well, I like fun."  
"Don't bother." Lyan's words are final as he finishes putting on his shoes and straightens. "It's not worth it, Reg." The dull quality to his eyes is back again, and Reg feels slightly hurt at the boy's refusal. He doesn't know if the hurt he's feeling is for himself or for the boy's delusional look, but it's there and that just makes him unwilling to back down. He's not going to argue, however.  
"Then... At least, come here for your birthday, okay? Don't stay outside."  
Lyan turns around to look at Reg. The older man can sense that there's a lot of turmoil going on within the boy, and in the end Lyan just briefly nods before departing.  
Jin hides his face in his hand when he sees the happy smile on Reg's face. He knows exactly what Reg is thinking, and it's not going to please Lyan.  
_

Reg can't really find anything he thinks will suit Lyan's tastes for sure, so in the end he settles for a sweater that seems warmer than that tattered one the boy already wears. He asks Mancy for help, a young woman in Jin's group. Although they're more acquaintances from work than anything else, she's very kind with him and shows him how to make one, because there aren't many clothing shops around here. The only good ones are in the bigger cities like Lyum, and they're pretty far. So instead of getting ripped off in some shady business, Reg follows Mancy's advice: the sweater is pretty okay and it's certainly warmer than the one Lyan has, but Reg has his doubts on the color and the fabric. They can't find anything better, so he settles with this.

It shames him to admit it, but on the morning of Lyan's birthday, he feels like a kid on Christmas morning. He's really looking forward to the boy's arrival, because he wants to show him the cake he made, and Jin also agreed to come "to see how it would go".  
So when the door opens to reveal Jin, he's almost twitchy with excitement. He doesn't know why he's behaving like such a kid but he really hopes that this is going to go well, for both Lyan and himself.  
"Come on, the cake's in the kitchen, tell me what you think about it before Lyan comes!"  
"Slow down, big guy, it's just a cake. He'll probably like it no matter what it looks like."  
"I know, but still, and I'm not sure if he's going to like the present..." 

Jin glances at his friend, and the anxious look on the man's face makes him feel half amused, half annoyed. He sighs.  
"For fuck's sake, Reg, stop acting like such a...." He shakes his head. "You're like that one bashful girl who has a crush on her senpai and doesn't know if she's going to go through with giving him chocolates on Valentine's day or not."  
Reg shoots Jin a confused look. "...Senpai?"  
"Ugh, right. You're not really into foreign culture. Forget what I said." Jin plops down on the stool and wipes some of the whipped cream off the cake, ignoring Reg's indignant cry. Licking it off his fingers, he gives a soft hum of approval. "Yeah, he's definitely going to like this. It's really good. How'd you even make this?"  
"I started it yesterday, it spent the night in the fridge, and then I made the whipped cream this morning." Reg smiles at Jin, obviously very happy about his friend's positive criticism.  
Jin smiles back, happy that Reg is happy.

Soon enough, Lyan is the one to step through the doorway. Relief floods Reg, all doubt about Lyan coming here for his birthday vanishing upon his arrival, and he strides up to the boy as soon as Lyan gets rid of his shoes.  
"So you came, that's great!"  
Jin almost laughs when he sees the boy making a face, very close to the one he felt like making himself when he saw how overwhelmingly happy Reg was.  
"Yeah, I did. What's so great about that?"  
"Your birthday!" And Reg smiles widely at the boy, who doesn't seem to get what the fuss is about.  
"Yeah, I know I told you it was my birthday. Why're you so happy about it?"  
Reg isn't discouraged at all, despite the lack of emotion from Lyan. "Well, I made you a cake for the occasion, and I even got you a present. Come on, it's in the kitchen!"  
Lyan doesn't move an inch and his eyes narrow. "Why did you do that?"  
And there's the kicked puppy look again. Damn, if anyone has a weakness, it's that face Reg makes when he's sad, Jin thinks to himself. But he doesn't try to intervene. After all, he came here to see, not to act.

Reg knows that, so he doesn't even give his friend so much as a glance, instead staring at Lyan, waiting for the boy to look at him. Lyan soon does when he finally notices the silence stretching out between the three of them, and when he sees Reg's mournful expression he immediately feels bad. He acts cold, but he's still a 17 year old. He's not heartless.  
"Okay, okay! I'll check it out," Lyan cries out, pushing past the older man to head to the kitchen.  
His progress stops short when his feet bring him to the kitchen's doorway, halting in surprise. He doesn't know why or how, but something in his chest uncurls when he sees the cake and the present. It's just so pretty. And it's something he hasn't seen for himself for a long, long time.  
He tentatively takes a step forward, studying the two items on the table. On the right, there's a slab of fluffy sponge cake topped with red jam, whipped cream and some raspberries; in retrospect, for anyone who's seen a pastry shop at least once in their life, this is a pretty simple cake, nothing too amazing. But that kind of shop exists in bigger cities, and to Lyan, who's never set a foot outside Crocuta City, this is nothing short of a miracle. He doesn't seem to notice how long he stays there, standing in front of the table and gawking at the cake. Reg doesn't dare interrupt the moment; Jin holds back his snarky comments, because he's actually surprised that the cake is having so much effect on the kid.  
Then the boy's eyes drift to the gift. It's carefully wrapped in red paper, a red that matches the raspberries, and it strikes him that the matching colors aren't a surprising choice coming from Reg. It's like the old man is meant to be good at housework. It's kind of funny, when Lyan thinks about it, and he'd probably act smug and tell Reg so, would he not feel so amazed by what he's seeing.  
He slowly turns around to look at Reg, the wonder in his eyes so pure that Reg's heart stutters a bit. That's when he tells himself, sadly, that it's so unusual for Lyan to look his age it almost gave him a heart attack. The boy speaks, hesitantly.  
"This..." He clears his throat, and tries again. "This is for me...?"  
Reg nods, smiling at the boy. "Yeah. Go ahead."  
The second thing he tells himself, as the boy turns back to the gift without a word, is that Lyan didn't even tell him to stop smiling. The boy must be really shaken by this.

But then, if it makes him so happy, why'd he refuse it in the first place?

Lyan takes the gift in his hands, almost reverently, and stares at the package. Should he really rip it open? He feels like it would be a mistake to ruin the glossy wrapping paper. But when he stares at Reg, the man nods again, encouragingly. So he turns the gift around a bit, trying to feel through it, before gripping it firmly on each side of the tape that seals the package. Still, something stops him from opening it. If it's something he can't bring back home... Who is he kidding. Whatever it is, he won't be able to bring it with him. So he steels himself, and Reg feels a bit uneasy when he sees the boy's face become stony.

Then Lyan tears the paper apart, and he stares at the sweater inside. Reg doesn't notice he's holding his breath. Jin still doesn't make a sound, his attentive stare following the boy's movements, and sometimes checking his friend's face. The boy runs his fingers over the purple wool. He doesn't like purple, and wool always makes him uncomfortable. But...  
"Reg..."  
When he hears Lyan say his name, for a short, wild moment, the man is sure the sweater is the ugliest thing in the world, that no one would ever want it, and he wonders if it was worth it after all, asking Mancy and making that sweater. But then he notices that the boy's features are softening. And that he missed the wavering in Lyan's voice. The boy looks at Reg and smiles a genuine smile.  
"It's probably itchy, and it hurts my eyes, but..." Reg can't tear his eyes away from the boy's grateful gaze. "I'm... I'm really happy. Thanks."

Jin chuckles discreetly in his corner. The look on Reg's face is priceless, and finally there's a little bit of genuine joy on that boy's face. Jin never thought he'd see it.  
At the same time the thought crosses his mind, Jin does a double take. His face doesn't show anything, but Reg feels brief confusion coming from his friend's spot in the kitchen as Jin thinks, unmoving.  
So he doesn't feel totally disinterested about the boy.  
It surely is very far from Reg's feelings of protectiveness for the boy, but there certainly is some level of concern that Jin didn't realize he felt for Lyan. Interesting.

Lyan, on the other hand, feels like crying. Real crying, not something caused by pain or humiliation or wariness. No, he feels like the joy bubbling inside him is going to spill over, his eyes warming up and his nose prickling, and he feels his smile wobbling. When did he start smiling? He feels like he's basking in some kind of warm light.  
He feels like everything's all right.  
Everything's better than it could ever be.

But of course, it doesn't last.

Soon, both Jin and Reg notice a change in the boy's attitude when reality catches up on him. He can't do this. He can't take it. He turns around to face both men, his eyes resigned as he speaks. "Reg... I'm... I'm really sorry, but... I can't accept your gift."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin.  
> Lyan's first real gift in years, and he can't even take it home. I'm being really mean to him, poor kid, and it's only going to get worse... Buckle up.  
> Thanks for reading, leave a comment if you feel like it!


	17. Always Resigned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Lyan refuses to take Reg's gift, the atmosphere becomes heavy and tense. Reg tries his best to cheer Lyan up anyway.

As soon as he speaks those words, Lyan feels a chill traveling down his spine. The change in the atmosphere is instant. Reg's face falls, and Lyan feels like he just ruined everything.  
Everything.  
Again.  
Jin's face doesn't change at all, but Lyan recognizes that acting. It's the acting he likes to use: covering up your tracks for every emotion you could feel. If Jin wasn't that kind of individual, something would have at least twitched in his face, but no. Nothing changes.  
That's how Lyan knows he just fucked up in Jin's book. 

But he doesn't have the choice: of course he'd love to take the sweater back with him. If he could, he'd put it on right now, despite it being itchy and ugly. But if his father saw the sweater, he'd ask who gave it to him. And then he'd know about Reg. And then he'd be mad, so so mad, and dangerous, and Lyan absolutely doesn't want that; not now that he's found a good shelter. Not now that he's found Reg.  
So he tries to hide his own disappointment and slowly sets the whole down on the table, and he feels like his bones suddenly weigh tons, that he's being dragged down a cold, cold river. Because that's exactly what this feels like: drowning as everything turns gray around him. The change in atmosphere is almost too much to handle.  
When he realizes this, Lyan can't really believe what just crossed his mind. This atmosphere, too much to handle? When did he start caring about atmosphere, about other people, about ruining their lives? Why does he even care? Why does Reg... Why is that old man important to him, all of a sudden?  
He looks at Reg, who seems absolutely dejected by his refusal. Lyan can't bear to look at him any longer, even less at Jin, so he averts his gaze and mumbles a soft "sorry", knowing full well this isn't enough to apologize to someone who has sheltered him for months, especially during the cold season, for such an insulting behaviour.  
He hears rustling, which is Reg's head shaking, and he doesn't move, unsure of what to do. He should leave. Yeah, he should leave.

Reg stares at the boy, frustration and sadness invading him. He sensed anger coming from Jin for a brief moment, when Lyan refused, but it vanished quickly, hidden behind his friend's emotional firewall. He'll need to speak to Jin after this is over, he can't let his friend be mad at the kid because of this refusal. Surely there's a reason to this all. Why is he refusing something that obviously makes him happy? It's killing him, and the way the boy whispers that he's sorry with a resigned voice... Why can't Lyan just be happy? Why can't he just accept what he's given? Why does he always act so resigned, each time he refuses something nice?  
Why? Why? Why?  
Reg shakes his head. So many questions. 

His hand reaches for the boy's shoulder, but it stops halfway. He can't touch Lyan. Reg lets his arm fall to his side again, unsure of how to react.  
"Lyan..."  
The boy keeps his eyes downcast, and he doesn't move, so Reg keeps going.  
"It's fine. Really, it's fine." He doesn't sigh, although he feels dangerously close to it, and turns to Jin. "Come on, let's eat some cake before it starts falling apart."  
Jin stares at him, and judging by the way his shoulders are stiff, he's not in the mood to laugh anymore. Reg's stare grows heavy with meaning as he repeats, "It's fine." Jin bows his head slightly before taking a step towards the table, which probably means he's going to hold back for now.  
Reg then turns to Lyan. "Come on, Lyan. Let's eat."  
But the boy keeps hanging his head, and the older man can sense the shame storming in Lyan's heart.  
"It's really okay, Lyan. Stay here. At least for the cake. You're okay with that, right?"  
The kid's eyes lift up to meet Reg's, and the man gives him a reassuring smile. "This is for your birthday, you shouldn't feel like anything's your fault."  
Then he leans over, grabs one of the plates along with a spoon and cuts Lyan a piece of cake before handing it to him. "Here you go. I'd be really sad if you didn't even taste it."  
Lyan takes a hold of the plate, and scoops up a piece, watching as Reg busies himself with the rest of the plates. The spoon passes his lips, and the sweet taste of the cake makes him feel like crying again. He can feel a lump forming in his throat, and swallowing is a bit difficult, but he can't deny that he's truly grateful for Reg's kindness. He just can't tell him out loud. Even less when Jin's here.  
So he sits on the ground and continues eating his cake, bittersweet sadness sitting in his aching heart.

There's not much talking as they eat their respective parts, but at least Reg's actions have dispelled the uneasy atmosphere for a bit. Mizzie spends the whole time sniffing Lyan's plate and rubbing herself against his back, knowing full well the conflicted feelings swelling inside of him, menacing to break out at any moment.  
When the boy checks the clock, he's sad to see that it's almost time for him to go, yet there's a part of him that feels relieved. He wants to escape this house, where people are too kind to him, kinder than he deserves. So he stands up, patting the crumbs off his pants, and goes to put his plate in the sink. Then he stands in front of the men. "I have to go now." He can feel his cheeks heating up in front of Reg's inquisitive stare and Jin's careless glance. "I... Um, thanks... For the birthday. And, and the gift- and the cake." He feels so awkward, why does he feel awkward? This never happens to him. Other people get awkward, not him. 

He should really go.

He's about to turn around, but Reg reaches for his hand, barely touching it. Lyan stays motionless, not really understanding what the older man is trying to do, until Reg lifts inquiring eyebrows.  
Oh, touching. He nods, and the man gently takes Lyan's hand in his own.  
"You can stay, you know. I don't mind."  
Lyan feels troubled by the contact, because his skin isn't crawling where it's touching Reg's hand. Weird. It's not usually like this. "Um, I need to go... My parents..." His eyes glance at the clock. Shit, he really needs to go. "I really have to leave now, sorry."  
Reg doesn't let go. "Lyan... I know you don't like to leave late, but can't you stay a little longer then?"  
"I already told you, my parents...."  
"Then call them. Tell them you're staying over for your birthday."  
"No, look, I _have_ to go home Reg. You don't understand!" Lyan tries to pry his arm out of Reg's grasp, but Reg tightens his hold. Why is he being so persistent today?  
"Lyan, it's _you_ who doesn't understand. Don't you want to stay for the night? Just once?" Reg knows that he's pushing his luck with how much Lyan can stand his tenacity, but right now, it feels like the kid's hesitating more than ever before. Maybe Reg can get him to stay a bit longer than usual.

However, Lyan's face remains conflicted.  
"It's supposed to be your birthday, your parents should be okay with you staying at a friend's house tonight, right?"  
At those words, Lyan's expression morphs in a bitter smile. "Reg, it doesn't work like that." The man's hold on his arm eases slightly and Lyan tugs on his arm again, to no avail. Now Reg is the one feeling confused.  
"Why? What do you mean by that?" His eyebrows are slightly furrowed and the boy can see that Reg is starting to understand... something. Lyan can't allow that.  
"It's just the way it is, okay? Now let me go."  
Reg's lips are pursed, a sign of internal conflict. Lyan's eyes briefly loose their sharp edge as he adds: "Please."  
Reg immediately lets go of Lyan's arm. He doesn't want Lyan to go, he knows it's not okay, but at the same time he can't stand to see that kind of look on the boy's face. The look disappears as fast as it happened, and Lyan's face is back to its stern, cold expression.  
Jin hasn't said anything during the whole conversation, but somehow, he understands what Reg is trying to do. And maybe the kid will slip up at some point, tell them what's really holding him back. "Lyan, you sure you don't want to stay? It is getting really cold outside."

Lyan starts feeling a bit resentful. He's onto them, he knows what they're trying to do. "Guys, I can assure you that staying here is _not_ going to make things easier for me. And when isn't it cold in our city?" He looks at Jin, then at Reg. "That's right. Never, so-"  
Reg cuts him off: "Lyan, I really think you should stay. I feel like it's dangerous for you to go out there."  
Lyan is feeling the last shreds of his patience slip away. He has to go home. "Look, Reg, I really have to go now. We'll see each other again in a few days, so what's the big deal?"  
"But Lyan, it's just that I feel like-"  
Irritation flares up in his chest. "Just piss off, Reg, okay? I don't care what you feel like! I need to go now!" Reg is somewhat startled by the sudden outburst, but Lyan immediately closes his eyes and lifts his hand up to rub his tired face. "I'm sorry. Today was really fun, and I'm thankful for all the effort you went through to make this day special. I didn't want to ruin it because of my behaviour, but I guess... I guess that's a miss. Just let me go, all right?"  
Jin remains silent, watching the weary boy in front of the door. Reg is equally silent, but that's because he doesn't know what to do.

Of course Lyan would like to stay. He feels tired, he doesn't want to walk all the way back home in the cold with shady individuals lurking around every corner as darkness falls. He doesn't want to go home, he doesn't want to face him. He wants to stay in Reg's safe house, even with annoying Jin.

Jin in question is the one who speaks again. "Alright then, Lyan. If it's really that important that you go, we shouldn't be holding you back here." Lyan feels a slight twinge at that but ignores it, as usual. Reg just stares at the floor. "Right, Reg?"  
Reg lifts his head up, blinking a few times. "Um, yes. Lyan?"  
The boy looks at Reg. "What?"  
Reg's insistent gaze makes Lyan a bit uneasy. "If anything bad happens, you have to tell me. I need to know. I have to know when you're okay and when you're not."  
Lyan lowers his eyes. He suddenly feels like crying. Why the fuck does he feel like crying? He shouldn't feel like crying so often in just one day. This isn't normal. Staying here is fucking him up.  
He opens his mouth to speak, but... He can't bring himself to answer.  
Reg is still staring at him, worry nagging at his heart. Why won't Lyan answer?  
Jin sighs and uncrosses his arms. "Okay, Lyan. You can go." He steps away from the counter he was leaning on and goes to press the switch to the door. Lyan looks at him for a short while, before nodding and turning away from both men in the entryway. He takes a few steps outside, then turns around again and says: "Thank you for the birthday party."  
Reg smiles at him. "You can hardly call that a party. We'll do better next year." A moment of hesitation, then: "Be careful on the way home, Lyan."  
Lyan shrugs. "Don't worry, I always am." He turns around and heads out, both of the men's gazes following his back until the darkness swallows him whole.

Reg sighs. Jin doesn't say anything. Mizzie closes the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpking.  
> Finally got around to drawing Reg! (http://tanukitan.deviantart.com/art/Reg-and-Mizzie-Stray-s-shelter-665425067)  
> Thanks for reading, leave a comment if you feel like it!


	18. Under Covers

Of course, Lyan doesn't have it in him to stay away for too long after the birthday fiasco. Although he knows Jin's probably still a bit resentful for the way Lyan hurt his best buddy Reg's feelings last time, the boy wants to see Reg. It's some kind of yearning he can't really control, and he feels like life is gray without the man's warm presence. He doesn't know when this started to be a thing, and he doesn't know why he still feels so attracted to the place and the man, since he thought the novelty of it would wear off with time.  
Clearly it didn't work that way.

When he finally musters the courage to face Reg and eventually Jin despite the events of the last week, he tells himself that if they're mad at him, he'll just leave and spend the day outside, like he would any other day. Deep inside, though, he strongly hopes it won't come to this.  
He hates that he hopes for it, and that he can't help it.

His worries vanish when Reg opens the door with his usual radiant expression and warm gaze. Nothing's changed. Lyan breathes an internal sigh of relief, and then immediately reprimands himself for it. He needs to stop feeling these feelings.  
Jin then appears behind Reg and the boy tells himself that it won't be difficult with that asshole around. He steps inside and takes off his coat and boots, and when he turns around he sees the older man's eyes trained on him.  
He frowns. "What is it?"  
"Don't you want to take off your scarf?" asks Reg curiously.  
"No," comes Lyan's dry reply as he pushes past the man.  
Reg frowns slightly in a hurt expression. It was just a small question, why is Lyan acting so defensive about it? Jin seems to think the same as him, and he doesn't let it go that easily. He follows Lyan into the living room.

"Hey, Lyan, what's up with the scarf anyway?" he asks as he leans over the couch where the boy sits down.  
Lyan looks up at him with a scowl. "None of your goddamn business. Piss off."  
"Woah, okay pal," says Jin with raised hands, as if to placate the boy.  
"Not your pal," growls Lyan.  
Reg steps up to the both of them and sets a hand on Jin's shoulder. "Leave him alone, Jin. He's clearly not in the mood for your crap."  
Jin gently pushes Reg's hand off and sighs exaggeratedly. "He's never in the mood for anything, that's what's clear to me. I can't have any fun with him."  
Then the young man walks away, and Reg looks over at Lyan, whose green eyes are still trained on Jin's back.

He looks more tired than usual.

Reg steps closer to the boy, and Lyan's eyes shift over to him. When Lyan sees the look on Reg's face, he sighs warily.  
"What?"  
Reg stops, unsure of what to say. Lyan stares at him and waits a bit, but his patience doesn't last long.  
"Reg, what is it? Because if it's about the scarf, I'm not taking it off."  
Reg shakes his head and pushes his hands in his pockets. "No, it's not about the scarf. Of course you can keep it, that's fine. It's just..."  
Lyan's eyes narrow in apprehension. "You're not going to ask me about how I feel, are you?"  
Reg looks away and shifts uneasily, and Lyan raises his eyes to the sky. "Dammit..."  
Then he looks back at the man. "I still don't get why you're so concerned over how I'm doing, but for the millionth time, Reg, when will you understand that I don't want to talk about that kind of thing?"  
"I do understand that, I really do," hurriedly replies Reg, "but you look really tired today. That's why I... was just wondering if anything happened. And, to be honest," he adds, "I'm also a bit confused about your scarf, but again, it's okay if you don't want to take it off."  
Lyan stays silent. He gets that Reg would like an explanation about the scarf, because he's always wearing that thing, but Lyan doesn't feel like he should justify wearing it. If they saw what was under it, then he wouldn't ever hear the end of it.

Reg can see that the boy isn't willing to answer, so he says: "You don't have to answer. I know I'm annoying you, but the only thing I really ask of you is for you to rest here until it's time to go. I don't know if you've seen yourself in a mirror, but you've got really dark bags under your eyes. I mean, darker than usual."  
"That shouldn't concern you, old man. I do what I want, and I'm not sleeping here." Not with that fucker Jin around. Knowing him, he could very well try to take Lyan's scarf away.  
Reg looks a bit hurt by those words, and Lyan doesn't get why.  
The man looks away. "...Okay." He seems to hesitate a bit, then he looks back at the boy with worried eyes. "You do know you can trust me, right? That I'm not going to do anything to you?"  
Then Lyan understands why Reg looked hurt. His words made it seem like he didn't trust Reg.

Wait. Does he trust Reg?

That's a troubling question. His first instinct is to say no, but somewhere within him he finds that the answer could possibly be yes.  
It disturbs him.

He pushes the thought away and frowns annoyedly. "That's not the question, I just don't want to sleep. Bug off, okay? Stop worrying over things like this, it's not important."  
"It's important to me," answers Reg with his usual concerned face.  
"Well it shouldn't be," replies Lyan crossly. The way the old man acts is getting on his nerves, and he doesn't have nerves to spare. He can feel that he's getting irritated, but he doesn't want to lash out at Reg. This conversation needs to come to an end.  
Reg seems to realize something and he takes a step away, backing off. "All right, I'll leave you alone then. Sorry for... annoying you."  
Lyan is surprised by how perfectly timed Reg's choice to end the conversation there is. It's like Reg just read his mind. Then again, the old man seems to do that a lot, and it still puzzles Lyan how he does it. Is it even voluntary? Or is it just coincidence each time? If that's the case, it's really weird.  
The boy nods. "...Yeah. Okay."  
Reg's gaze lingers a bit before he turns away and walks out of the living room.  
Lyan watches him go over the back of the couch and then sinks back into the cushions.

Does he trust Reg...?

No. Lyan shakes his head forcefully, as if to convince himself of it through the decisiveness of this action. There's no way he can trust anyone.  
There's absolutely no way. None.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin.  
> I won't be updating for a while, because I'm busy with my exams, but don't worry, I'll be back soon enough.  
> Thanks for reading, leave a comment if you feel like it!


	19. Kneading Thoughts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reg and Jin want to see how good Lyan is at baking.

It's been four days since he's last gone to Reg's. That morning, when Lyan wakes up, he feels tired. But not the haven't-slept-enough kind of tired. The feeling-old-as-Earth-itself kind of tired. The kind of feeling that leaves him dangerously drained and weary of everything. During those kind of days, he'll just get out of the house and find his hidden place in a lifeless alley to sleep in. It's cold, hard, dry, but at least it's some kind of shelter. Not a lot of people go there during the day, he doesn't need to interact with anyone, and he doesn't have to be as careful because there aren't any restaurants or dumps or anything that attracts people like him.

But today, he feels like he can allow himself to go somewhere more comfortable than his usual alley. He knows he isn't being reasonable, but at this point... His brain doesn't really care about what's reasonable and what isn't. He just feels attracted to Reg's house, and he's stopped questioning it.  
So he goes, the long walk not helping in any way to change his mind. He goes, and everything is the same when he steps in the house and takes off his coat. Reg says hi, with his usual nice smile, and Mizzie blinks a hello to him, and – ugh – Jin waves from where he's sitting in the kitchen. Lyan feels a weight slide off of his shoulders as he walks to the couch, the warm atmosphere giving him a bit more strength.

Today, Reg has decided with Jin that they'd do some baking; both he and Jin have an idea about Lyan's kitchen skills and they want to check. He's sitting on the couch, reading, when they come and get him.  
"You want to bake?" He tears his eyes away from the interesting narrative, a bit confused. "Why? What's the point?"   
Then he notices the expecting look Reg is giving him, and that makes him put the book down on the table. He thinks for a moment, staring at the book's cover, then shrugs. He's too tired to give a fuck. "Ah, never mind. Why am I even asking." His head turns to Jin, who is standing behind Reg. "I better tell you now, I have no idea how baking is supposed to go."  
Jin shrugs in turn, his face a bit too smug to Lyan's taste. "We figured."  
Lyan doesn't ask what that's supposed to mean, his worn bones are pulling him to the ground and he's too spent to give Jin any kind of witty answer. And to be honest, he's kinda curious. Reg shoots him a genuinely happy smile as Lyan gets up. It almost makes him smile too. Almost.   
Strange, how he's gotten so used to Reg's smiles that they don't disgust him anymore. They make him feel warm.

"All right, gents." Jin stands proudly in front of the others as he slaps the recipe down on the table. Lyan almost doesn't jump. Reg notices and glares at Jin, who chooses to ignore it all. "Today, we are making... shortcakes! Don't worry, Lyan," he winks, "it's one of the easiest recipes I could find."  
The kid doesn't resist the impulse of rolling his eyes at that. "I'm not incapable, you know. I've just never baked in my life. Doesn't mean it has to be a disaster."  
"Yeah, yeah," the young man waves the words away. "Whatever you say."   
Reg just sighs from his corner of the kitchen, hoping this will go well.

Lyan soon finds himself to be enjoying the feeling of making food. He's a fast learner and pretty good at it, Jin has to admit. It makes the boy feel relaxed, the repetitive actions soothing his mind: knead, spread, flatten, cut, repeat. The soft snick of the knife as it cuts throught the dough is a quiet rythm to his thoughts.  
Jin and Reg quickly understand that Lyan is the kind of person who bakes in silence, and they naturally agree to talk in hushed tones. It's all very warm and peaceful, comfortable. The sky is light grey but everything is bright and clear outside the window.  
It's been quite a while since Lyan has felt this much at ease.  
Since he's actually done something useful with his hands.  
Since he's liked what he was doing with them.  
The dough is soft under his fingers, silky with white wheat, and he likes how supple it is when he shapes it into circles. It feels good to be productive, to make something useful and pretty and sweet. He feels like he serves a purpose whenever he comes here, like he isn't some kind of decoration or toy.   
He feels like an actual person. An actual person that lives, and talks, and breathes, and thinks. An actual person that others notice and listen to, someone others care for.  
Here, he matters.

Lyan halts his flow of thought and frowns a bit.   
What is he thinking? It's not like that. His thoughts don't matter. They never did. Why would that ever change?  
He glances over at the other men, who are whispering together as they check the recipe.  
They're nice people, no doubt about it. They've given him a place; somewhere to go instead of the cold streets. They let him speak his mind, not that he has much mind to speak in the first place. They've cared for him, and it seems they don't expect anything in return. It seems.

....It seems.

The sense of unease has slipped back in Lyan's stomach. He can't be too comfortable around other people. It's already bad enough that he comes here all the time.  
The feeling of peace is gone. Now he feels that what he's kneading is his stress. His hands get clammy and he pulls them away from the dough, feeling disgusted. What is he even doing? His place isn't in the kitchen. It's not here.  
He looks at the clock on the wall. He'll have to go back in two hours, but he might as well go now.

Reg has noticed that something is wrong with Lyan, and has been watching him for a while. When he sees Lyan checking the time, he decides to break the quiet atmosphere of the kitchen.  
"What's the matter, Lyan?"  
The kid's head snaps to Reg's side. "Oh, nothing. Nothing." He seems to hesitate shortly, before speaking again. "It's just that... I think I should go."  
"Go? Go where?"  
"Well, home." How he hates that word. Lyan tries to be convincing, as years of lying have taught him to be. "I should go back home." It sounds false to his ears, but he knows others believe it.

However, Reg isn't just any other. He senses that Lyan is unsure, and he doesn't buy it.   
"But it's still early. You don't usually go back at this time...."   
Jin is silent during the exchange.  
"Well, today's different, I guess. Thanks for the baking lesson, it was fun." Lyan makes his way past the two men to wash his hands at the sink, but Reg reaches for his arm.  
Lyan sees the gesture from the corner of his eye and immediately dodges the outstretched hand, his brain registering too late that Reg wasn't actually going to touch him. Of course he wasn't. Reg never touches him. His arm stopped moving towards him at least fifty centimeters away from the boy's body, but Lyan's brain is too tired to notice things today. So he still tries to avoid what doesn't need to be avoided, and in doing so, he stumbles backwards. His back bumps into the table behind him and when he tries to catch himself, his right elbow lands in the middle of his working space. He freezes, and slowly looks down at his sleeve.  
It's covered in flour. Shit.

Reg senses he's done something wrong, and lowers his arm. He didn't think about the consequences when he reached out, but now he feels that he should have. Lyan is trying to wipe the flour off of his sleeve, staring at the remaining white trace in utter dismay.  
"Um... Lyan?"  
"Shit." Lyan swears. He knew he shouldn't have helped. He starts rubbing the flour away vigorously, but there's a remaining faint spot of white on his dark red sweatshirt. He can't try washing out the flour, it'll stick to the fabric of his clothes, and even if he does, the flour won't completely disappear. There are specks of it all along his arm. He can't change his clothes, it'll be noticeable- but then again, would it really be? Did He really notice what he was wearing this morning?  
Maybe it's not that obvious that it's flour.  
Yeah. Maybe he'll think it's some dust. Some remains of concrete on the streets. That's plausible. But what if he figures it out? What should he do? What should he do?  
"Lyan." Jin's smooth voice cuts in his mental ramblings. Lyan looks up at the young man. "Wash your hands, we can talk about what's been bugging you since this morning."  
Lyan, though surprised, tries to play it off. "What? Nothing's wrong."  
Jin sighs. "Just wash your hands first and the we'll talk."  
Lyan shakes his head. "No, there's nothing wrong. Everything's fine. We don't have to talk about anything."  
Reg intervenes, his voice gentle. "Just wash your hands, Lyan. Okay?" Lyan looks at both men. This is unfair, he's getting double-teamed. They're just waiting, so Lyan turns to the sink to wash his hands. The stream of water is loud to his ears, his heartbeat picking up speed. How do they know something's wrong? What do they know? That he's tired? That he doesn't want to go? His home? How?  
He can feel the gazes in his back, both men are watching him as he cleans his hands. It makes him nervous. He doesn't like this. Then he feels Mizzie's tail brushing against his calves.  
And just like that, both gazes disappear. They're not staring at him anymore. He feels relieved, dries his hands on the towel. Breathes.  
Turns around, acting confident. "So, what? What do you want to talk about?"  
He's waiting for Jin to speak, but it's Reg that asks. "What's wrong with you?"  
His eyes are so honest and the question so straightforward that Lyan's smirk almost wobbles, but he regains his composure fast.  
"I told you already, nothing. You're imagining things. I just have to head back early today, that's all."  
"Lyan..." The tone of Reg's voice means that he knows full well something really is wrong. "Why did you freak out about the flour? I mean, I'd understand if it was just about reaching for you, but clearly, it's about the flour."  
Lyan doesn't know what to answer.   
Oh, yeah, that, I'm scared of flour.  
It's just that I'm allergic to flour.  
It's because I really like this shirt.  
None of them sound very plausible, so he just shakes his head. "It's nothing," he repeats.

"You're pissing me off." Lyan flinches when he hears the menacing tone of Jin's voice. The Asian man looks completely calm, and the contrast between his words and his face is unsettling. "You can't lie to us. You may think adults can be fooled easily, but we're not your average adults. So tell us the truth."  
Reg tries to soften his friend's words as he steps in front of Jin. "Is there any way we can help you?"  
Lyan feels something lightly tug at his heart when his eyes cross Reg's. There's worry, and questions, and kindness in his gaze. But it's too good to be true. Lyan can't allow himself to trust them, to trust himself. There's no valid reason to tell them. His life doesn't concern them.  
So he shakes his head and turns around without saying anything, heading to the door.  
What he's supposed to do, he doesn't know. He just has to get out of here.  
"Lyan, are you really going?" comes Reg's inquisitive voice as shuffling can be heard in his back.  
"Yeah." Lyan pulls on his shoes without looking Reg in the eye, then stands up to grab his jacket. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Jin watching him from the kitchen's doorway. It's like the man is onto him, and he really doesn't like it.  
He likes it even less when Jin moves in front of the switch that opens the door. He glares at the young man, practically hissing. "What do you want, Jin?"  
Jin sighs. "Look, Lyan, I know you're hiding something. We know you're hiding something. Pretty sure even Mizzie knows." He doesn't smile, or frown. "But if you absolutely don't want to tell, I understand."  
Lyan keeps glaring. "Move."  
"Fine, fine," Jin says as he complies. "But you should know that Reg really likes it when you come here."  
"Lyan," Reg says as the boy steps out. "I really don't mind. It does get lonely sometimes when neither Jin nor you are there."  
Lyan doesn't answer, but he does stop. He's struggling to find an answer, or to find a way to react. He wants to answer, he really does, but there's doubt and fear hanging over his mind. In the end, he just nods slightly before walking away.  
The three remaining behind watch him walk away, and Mizzie meows. Reg bends down to pick her up. "Me too. I hope he'll come back." Then he looks at his friend. "Jin, how do you feel about Lyan?"  
Jin shrugs. "Well, I know I don't like him less than the usual strangers."  
Reg smiles. "You don't have to say things so twisted. Anyway, thanks for helping me out today... it's been a pretty long time since we made food together."  
Jin shrugs again, but this time he smiles back. He's happy if Reg is happy. "Let's go actually bake them. Shortcakes aren't really supposed to be eaten raw."  
They walk back to the kitchen, closing the main door as they go. Mizzie is allowed to go in with them this time and she immediately jumps on the table to sniff Lyan's creations.  
"You really like him, huh?" chuckles Reg.  
Jin just rolls his eyes exaggeratedly at the exchange and gets to the baking business.

As both men sit in front of the illuminated oven, watching the dough harden under the heat, Jin hears Reg say in a low voice: "I wonder what he's hiding."  
Jin shrugs. "Maybe we're better off not knowing."  
"Maybe." Reg looks totally unconvinced, and Jin doesn't really understand why.  
"Reg, why are you so... interested in that boy? I just don't get it."  
Reg's eyes don't move. "I told you already. I just feel the need to."  
"Are you feeling something?"  
"Maybe."  
"You're not sure of even that?"  
This time, Reg's eyes move away from the oven to stare at Jin dead in the eye. "Jin, I'm never sure about my power. You should know that by now."  
"Sorry, sorry," Jin smiles apologetically. "It's just- It's something I never would have thought. I know you're a nice person, but to be this invested in caring for someone...Never thought I'd see you care this much for anyone, really."  
Reg smiles back, a reassuring smile that he knows how to pull off best. "I understand. Don't worry. I'd probably react the same if you were the one to care about someone."   
Jin relaxes against the counter. It's good to feel understood. "Yeah, that's not about to happen."  
"I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin.  
> My exams are over, no more studying (unless I failed), so until I get my results it's back to writing for me. God I missed Reg and Jin and Lyan and Mizzie and all my characters so much, holy shit, I'm so glad to get back to them!  
> Anyways, thanks for reading, and leave a comment if you feel like it!


	20. Twisted Abode

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyan goes back to his father's.

When Lyan cautiously steps into his house, he's relieved to see his father isn't in the living room. He discreetly closes the door and climbs up to his room as quietly as possible. When he enters his bedroom, he checks one last time that his father isn't coming for him, and closes the door behind him, sliding to the floor.  
He doesn't know what to do. He's completely lost. He knows it was a bad idea to go to Reg's house, because if his father finds out, then it's over for him. But it was so tempting, and his mind just wasn't feeling right. It was numb with fatigue, and he was just so tired of always being on his guard.  
He's lucky his father wasn't here upon his return. 

Lyan scrambles to his feet and hurriedly walks to the pile of clothes in the corner of his room. He needs to change before his father comes back.  
The feeling of urgency increases and his heart starts hammering against his ribs as he peels off his shirt and throws it in the pile, as if the cloth were made of fire, then bends down to pick up a blue shirt. Relief slides over him as easily as the shirt over his head, and he flattens the fabric out upon his belly. His father won't know about the flour.  
Lyan jumps as he hears the sound of someone climbing up the stairs, and he rushes to his bed, his heart pounding in his chest. He climbs on it and waits for his door to open, sitting stiffly on the side of his bed. Sure enough, the handle dips and the door opens to reveal his father's charming smile.  
"There you are." His father takes a step inside the room, the movements of his slim body as smooth and controlled as a snake's. Suddenly the room feels ten times smaller with the man inside. "What did you do today?"  
Lyan smothers his nervousness and the answer comes out naturally. "The same as usual."  
"Oh? Care to be a little bit more precise?" His father's tawny, gold-speckled eyes are trained on him the way a wild feline's would.  
"I just stayed in the streets."  
His father studies his face, as he always does. Lyan feels panic struggling to break free under the calm surface he manages to keep. Unreasonable thoughts fly across his mind: his father knows. His father knows that's a lie, he knows where he went, he knows who he saw.  
But his father just pulls back, his smile unwavering. "That sounds fun. Are you hungry?"  
"Yes, please."  
"Okay. Be good, I'll be back in a second."  
"Yes."  
Lyan doesn't dare let relief wash over him before the door is closed again and he hears the man's footsteps retreating. He breathes out, letting his heart beat fast and muscles relax. That went well. Must've been a good day for his father.

When the man comes back up the stairs, Lyan feels that something has changed. His father flings open the door still smiling, and throws the piece of bread in the middle of the room. "Here you go."  
Lyan notices him put away his phone. Maybe he got a bad phone call. Or a bad text. Either way, it's not good for him.  
"Thank you, dad." Lyan goes to pick up the bread, feeling the stale crust under his fingers. Of course it's stale. Lyan doesn't feel like eating it, he never does, but they both know that he will try.  
"So, Illyan. Let's talk."  
And there it goes. "Sure, dad. What do you want to talk about?"  
"Let's see... Let's talk about what I did today. I went to see a friend of mine, you know. And he made an offer. Something that I liked. So naturally, I accepted." He pauses.  
Lyan stays silent, holding the piece of bread in his hand. He never knows what he's supposed to do when his dad is there. Should he eat? Should he not? Should he talk? Should he not?  
The slap comes fast, and his head jerks to the side. He almost lets go of the bread.  
"You're not asking me what it was? Maybe you're not interested?" inquires the man with a seemingly disappointed expression.  
"What... What was it?" asks Lyan, as he rubs his sore cheek.  
"Well, I was supposed to train someone. In exchange, I got money."  
Yeah, like every single job you get, you asshole, Lyan thinks resentfully to himself.  
"But," his father continues. "I got ripped off. He just called me to say he found someone better for the job. So I won't get the money. It's a shame too, such an interesting amount." His father shakes his head regretfully. "So you see, I'm a bit annoyed right now."  
"..." Lyan has a bad feeling about this, as he always does when his dad speaks to him, really.  
His father tilts his head to the side. "You don't like the bread?"  
"I do, I do," hurriedly answers Lyan as he brings the bread to his mouth. Ugh. He can smell how stale it is. He hesitates only shortly, but that's enough of an excuse to get hit. This time the bread slips out of his hand, the force of the blow making his hands spasm.  
"Eat it, Lyan." His father is still smiling, but his voice isn't that light anymore.  
Lyan nods, and goes to pick up the bread, but he's pushed off the bed.  
"I think I already told you to answer me with words, didn't I?" His father is towering over him now.  
"Yes, dad. I'm sorry." He tries to bite a chunk off of the bread, but it's too dry and he can feel his jaw crack.  
"So you won't eat it?" His father's smile is viscious.  
Lyan knows this was on purpose, but he still tries to reason with him. "I can't eat it, dad, it's too- guh!"  
The kick slams him against the floor, and he curls up, gasping for air. His chest aches where he was hit, and he looks up to see what his dad is doing. He doesn't have time to avoid the fist hurtling towards his face, his head hits the floor and he tries to stifle his cry of pain as he holds his nose. Shit, it's going to bleed again. As soon as the thought crosses his mind, he sees a drop of red fall on the floor, followed by another.  
"Bleeding already?" his father chuckles. _Yeah, like that's funny, you piece of shit._  
His father kneels close to him, and Lyan can feel his body start to tremble. It's light, because he tries to control himself, and fortunately his father doesn't seem to notice. A searing pain crosses his cheek again, the slap resounding in the bedroom, and his father straightens to give him one last kick in the ribs.  
"Don't come out of your room, if you don't want me to be any angrier. I don't want to see your face."  
"Y..Yes, dad." Lyan articulates through the pain and the blood pouring from his nose. He hears his father's retreat, more than he can actually see it, and the receding sound of his father's steps allow silence to descend upon his room. Lyan slowly gets back on his knees, clenching his teeth at the pain, grabs the edge of the bed and pulls himself up before going to get a shirt to stop the bleeding. The pangs in his body are another difficulty when he tries to lie down in the least painful way, and the swelling of his face has already started up. He slowly twists around on his bed until he finally finds a position that allows him to rest without choking on his own blood.

_

When he wakes up, Lyan feels weak. He slowly gets up from his bed, hissing as pain shoots through his body. How long has he been here? Wobbling a bit as he stands up, he checks for any sounds in the house. Nothing. He goes to fetch his scarf, slowly making his way down the stairs, breathing as quietly as possible. Nothing creaks, luckily for him. He passes in front of the kitchen's glass door, doesn't bother to look at his hateful reflection. He knows it shows a thin boy with a bloody swollen face. Nothing new. 

He feels sick.

Dread piles up in his gut as he reaches for the door handle, praying that it makes no sound as he opens it slowly. The click of the door makes him freeze completely, heartbeat hammering away in his ears, sudden nausea overwhelming him. He can't puke here. He can't. _He can't_.  
No one comes for him from the darkness of his house. He squeezes himself through the space between the door and the wall, not daring to open it wider. The night wind is blowing outside, cold and unforgiving. Lyan moves his body to the outside, slowly closes the door. It clicks shut, he stays still, waiting for someone to open the door, grab him, throw him back inside. Nothing happens.  
He breathes. He's free. He has to run.  
So he runs, as fast as his trembling legs can carry him. He feels so bad. He feels so sick.  
The burning in his throat and stomach make it impossible to run further, and he slows down to a stop, doubling over and vomiting. He pukes all his fright, all his frustration and hurt and weakness. He's powerless. He briefly considers sitting here and never moving again, but he can't stop here. He has to go. He hasn't puked much, only bile. He'd better get something to eat. And something to drink. He can feel the tears stinging his eyes because of the puking, but they don't fall.  
Stumbling a bit, he makes his way out of the field, and then through the dark streets. He wants to go. Go where?  
He can't go to Reg's, not like this.  
Where is he going?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin.  
> Two chapters posted in one day, because I want to.  
> Yes, Lyan's dad sucks, no, he's not a fat smelly ugly drunkard. People that don't know him in the same way as Lyan does actually find him quite charming, since he looks as good as his morals are bad (hey, Lyan's looks have to come from somewhere, right).


	21. Chance Meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyan gets unpleasantly surprised as he tries to find something to eat.

Reg sits silently in his kitchen, Mizzie lying down on the table and watching his fingers turn the pages of his book. It's the book that Lyan has been reading, and when Reg noticed the title, it made him want to read it again. He remembers it from years ago, and it had been a good read for the person he was at that time.  
It's been a while since he's opened one of these. He knows he has a lot, maybe too many, for someone like him who doesn't often read. But for some reason, it reassures him, knowing that he has so many stories at his disposal. Half of them he has never read, and the thought is comforting to him: if he needs an escape from life, he has one. And something tells him that Lyan considers these the same way he does: another world, untouched by the pain and horror their daily lives lead them to see.

Although the weight of the book in his hand secures his conscience in this kitchen, his thoughts are drifting around the room, and most of them are about Lyan. He feels like he should've stopped him, and of course he tried, but... He should've insisted. Something really was off last time he saw the boy. Lyan never seemed particularly happy to go back, but that time, Reg had felt fear coming off in waves from the kid. He'd slipped up, he never should've even tried to grab him in the first place. Why had he reached out like that? It wasn't like the kid had tried to flee, he was just going to wash his hands.

Because he'd wanted to show him that they were here for him, that he wasn't alone in his distress. But he'd done it in the worst way possible for Lyan, he'd tried to grab his arm! How stupid a move was that? Reg swears under his breath, losing focus and unable to read any longer.   
He stands up, stretching, staring at Mizzie. And why had the kid seemed so freaked out about the flour? It was just flour... What was so bad about it?  
He shakes his head, taking the book with him as he heads back to the living room to put it back. Maybe he should go for a walk, it's better than staying here and mulling over his thoughts. He stays in front of the bookshelves for a minute, then nods to himself and walks over to the coat rack.

As he leaves his house and starts walking down the road, he notices somewhat happily that today the clouds aren't as thick as they usually are. Maybe it's a sign, who knows. Reg just likes to see news in everyday natural phenomenons. And a clear sky- as clear as it can be where he lives- is something he perceives as a bearer of good news.  
Of course, he's the first one to know that it's bullshit, because it never really works quite the way he'd like it to. But there's no harm in thinking it.  
His shoes scraping the sidewalk, his thoughts wander out to Lyan once again. It's been three days since that time. Usually Lyan comes by every four to five days, so there's no reason to really worry, but Reg can't help it.

Why is he so worried? The boy knows how to fight, right? He even told him so. But that feeling of fear... The kid had been deathly afraid. Jin probably didn't see it, mostly because he doesn't care enough to notice; people who can hide their emotions from him are scarce. Reg wonders if and when Jin will actually bring himself to care for the kid. Maybe it'll never happen.  
Reg shakes his head again, his eyes roaming across the streets. Maybe Lyan is alright and he's just worrying for nothing. This time, he doesn't know if his feelings are coming from his gut or his mind, because he tends to overthink things related to Lyan's well-being. It might be a mix of the two, really. There's no denying that the uneasy feeling sitting in his heart since then isn't something he can ignore.  
His feet bring him to the border between his district and the next. Does he want to go any further? There's no need to... But he didn't come here for nothing, right? Following his body's instincts, he sets a foot across the imaginary line.  
_

Lyan wakes up on the ground. His bleary eyes look around the room, and he recognizes his bed. Right. He'd come back yesterday, the house had been empty: that meant his father hadn't noticed that he hadn't returned for two days. What a lucky boy he was.  
Maybe he'd found another job after Lyan had gone.  
Lyan straightens, bringing himself to his feet. He doesn't need to hide the wince that the motion causes: the benefit of being alone. His stomach twists in hunger. How long has it been since he's eaten? He probably collapsed on the ground yesterday.  
"Ugh... Why couldn't it be the bed..." Lyan groans as he sluggishly drags his aching body towards his door, slowly pulling it open and checking for any signs of his father's presence. Nothing.  
As he makes his way down the stairs, his eyes rest on the kitchen's door. He averts his gaze right away; there's no need to torture himself by considering that option. He's hungry, yeah, but that's not enough to take such a risk. Pain briefly shoots up his left wrist, and his other hand immediately flies up to cover it, a shudder traveling down his spine. Don't think about it. Just don't think about it.  
His body isn't as hurt as yesterday, and the bruises have healed a little, so he might be able to move around and find food. Yeah, that's a good plan.  
Suddenly, Reg pops up in his mind. Lyan shakes his head, quickly dispelling the thought. If he goes like this, the old man will just be annoying, and Lyan doesn't want to bring any trouble to him.  
Lyan stops in his tracks, his eyes wide. He doesn't want to cause him any trouble?

Since when does he even care about that?

He stands still for a while, his expression blank. Then he lowers his head and starts walking again. This isn't the time to be dwelling on useless thoughts. He needs to eat.

Walking down the usual path, he notes that the cold is receding compared to the last week. He lifts his eyes up to the sky, noticing that it isn't as gray as usual, and hopes for a few rays of sunlight.  
Finally, his pace slows down to a stop in front of a familiar inn and his eyes search the darkness of the inside of the building. No one in sight, good. He's about to round the inn to reach the back alley when a man's voice calls out. "Lyan?"  
He whips around, not believing his ears. "Reg?!"  
The man draws closer, his expression perplexed. "Didn't think I'd meet you today, what a coincidence."  
"What are you doing here?" Lyan knows he's acting cold, but he doesn't care right now. Reg isn't supposed to be around here.  
"Well, I was just on a walk. What are you doing?" Reg walks past the boy, peering down the alley he was about to enter. Garbage and not much else. "What were you going to do in there?"  
"None of your business. Go away, Reg."  
"Don't be so mean! I swear it wasn't intentional to meet you here." Reg turns around to stare at the kid. "Although I'll admit, I was a bit worried. You know, about last time." Then Reg peers at the boy's face, and Lyan shuffles uneasily and pulls his hood further over his head. Fortunately, he'd thought about wrapping his scarf around his neck before leaving the house earlier. The man frowns and starts saying: "Did something..."  
Lyan shrugs. "It's fine. Nothing happened, but you should leave me alone now."  
"I can't hang out with you?" The older man understands he needs to drop the subject, and seems a bit disappointed.  
"No." Lyan frowns at the man. When is Reg going to leave? If he'd just go, maybe Lyan could finally eat. As if on cue, his stomach starts growling.  
Reg seems to hesitate a bit. "Are you... Do you want to come eat with me?"  
Lyan's eyes narrow. "I told you already, Reg. Leave."  
"Um, okay. Are you sure you don't want to-"  
"Dammit, Reg! Will you just leave already?" He can't risk anyone seeing Reg. Not here. Not with him.  
Reg lifts his hands up. "Okay, okay, I get it. I'll go. Just one last thing, are you coming tomorrow?"  
"Maybe." Lyan starts walking away from Reg, past the alley.  
"Um, I'm going that way too." He hears Reg's footsteps behind him, and frustration flares up inside his chest.  
"Ugh, will you just go already? I don't care, go the other way then, just go!"  
"Yes, okay, okay." Reg hurries past the boy, looking like a kicked puppy. Lyan sighs but doesn't try to stop him, watching as the older man walks down the street and turns around the corner, but not before casting one last glance towards Lyan. 

"Tch." Lyan turns back to the alley. That final look was full of concern and questions, but he can't allow himself to think about it too much. It doesn't mean anything. Right now, he just needs to eat. He checks one last time around him, relieved to see no one was there to see Reg and him talking, before stepping behind the inn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin.  
> Third chapter in two days, party hard! Not the first time Lyan's ended up passing out in his own bedroom, and certainly not the last. He's right about being careful of who sees him with Reg around these parts... but was he careful enough?  
> Thanks for reading, leave a comment if you feel like it!


	22. Possible Friendship

Reg throws Lyan one final glance to try and catch a hint of change on his face, a crack in his facade that would indicate that the boy doesn't really want him to go, but it is wasted on the boy's stony face. He has no choice but to leave, and it's what he does. He finally turns a corner and ends up out of Lyan's sight.

He doesn't know what to think. Clearly Lyan wanted him gone, and fast, like an unwelcomed stanger that had intruded on his time alone. Reg thought they'd made some progress and that they were over acting this distant with each other, but it seems he was mistaken. He feels guilty about having elicited such a strange, prickly reaction from Lyan, because even if he doesn't know why it happened, he does know that he was undeniably the cause. He knows this because as soon as Lyan noticed him, his emotions changed into a cold, gray, dreadful mess. Reg was too confused by the instant change to focus on each individual emotion, so he was unable to make out what exactly the boy was feeling, but he knew there was fear and it was his fault.

He didn't think his appearance in that street would have such a negative impact on the boy's mood. He even thought, briefly, that Lyan would be happy to see him. It turns out he couldn't have been any more wrong. He trudges on, dragging his feet along the sidewalk without noticing.   
He couldn't have known Lyan was there, in that particular spot, but part of him can't help but ask : then again, why did he even come here? 

Reg tries to find an explanation, and there's only one that comes up : he was drawn here, and it was probably by Lyan, unbeknownst to the both of them. It's hard to think otherwise. Reg doesn't see what else could have been his goal, because know that Lyan told him to fuck off, he feels lost. He's lost his way. He doesn't know where to go. There's nothing to do anymore. He didn't have any objective when he left the house, he just followed his instincts to this place.  
But why?  
Why here, of all the places in Crocuta City? Why Lyan?  
Why had he felt the need to find him without even knowing it was what he wanted?

He sighs, rubbing his face. The real question is why Lyan reacted like that to seeing him standing right there in the street with him, and what he was doing before they encountered each other. Reg saw what was in the dead-end alley Lyan was about to walk into : nothing but trash. And Lyan looked a bit too suspicious loitering around that place, looking like a deer caught in the headlights when their eyes met.

Reg doesn't really notice were he's going, so when he looks up and sees a bar several steps away, he doesn't even try to resist the temptation. It's a bit early to be drinking, and Jin isn't with him, but he feels like this is exactly what he needs to avoid overthinking about this situation. Lyan probably won't explain himself anyway, no matter what Reg does. The only thing he can do is give the boy shelter until Lyan trusts him enough to talk. Until then, Reg only needs to let him understand that his home is there for him regardless.

Reg walks up to the building and when he pushes the door to the bar, an old bell rings an off-key ding. The few men sitting around the bar just briefly glance at the door before going back to their own meandering thoughts or staring at the glitchy screen hanging from the ceiling.   
He slides in the booth in front of the bartender, asking for rum and beer, and leans on his left elbow to wait while he pensively stares at the lines and lines of bottles in front of him.

Jin is going to be mad at him for going to a bar without him.

Maybe he shouldn't have left like Lyan wanted him to.

The glass filled with the rich, amber-colored liquid comes sliding down the white surface of the marble counter, its speed curbing to a perfect stop in front of Reg. He looks up and thanks the bartender, who faintly nods back before turning around to clean his side of the counter.

Lifting the glass to his lips, Reg takes a gulp, chasing away the flitting thoughts about the boy standing outside a cold, dark alley. The strong, familiar taste of rum floods his mouth with a reassuring warmth. The only thing missing is Jin's presence next to him.

The motion of someone sitting in the adjacent chair pulls him out of his thoughts, and surprise hits him when gold crosses silver. He wasn't expecting the newcomer to be looking as well. The slim stranger with the golden eyes smiles at him before ordering his own drink, scotch and soda. He then turns to Reg and says : "Mind if we chat? I like having a drinking buddy."

Reg takes just a short moment to consider the offer. It's strange, but the man in front of him has no color, despite his warm and friendly expression. The sensation is weirdly similar to staring through a plastic bottle of water. The man isn't empty, but... whatever is inside him, it is transparent. 

Reg tries to ignore it, as he feels no threat coming from the man, and smiles in turn. "I don't mind."  
"So what are you doing around here? I don't think you usually come here," observes the man as he leans on his elbow. He has short, wavy brown hair and a very light, scruffy beard.  
"You're a regular?" asks Reg.  
"Yeah, I guess I am. I don't even know the bartender's name, but I come here fairly often."

The bartender steps in front of them and hands the man his drink. The latter looks at him, and a playful light appears in his clear amber eyes. He leans forwards and asks : "So, what's your name?"  
The bartender's serious expression doesn't change as he smoothly answers. "Steve."  
"Steve, huh. Do you want to chat with us too?"  
"Pardon me sir, but I have work to do." The bartender sidles away to continue cleaning, without so much as casting a glance in their direction. 

The brown-haired man turns back to Reg, making a face. "I guess not everyone likes to talk in bars." His tone is somewhat apologetic, and Reg smiles understandingly.

The other grins then, and Reg is somehow reminded of Jin's easy smile. The man is definitely older than Jin, but he sounds younger than Reg. He's really not sure.   
"The name's Caintil. What about you?" asks the man.  
"Reg."  
"Well, Reg, what're you doing around here then? It's not like this is a tourist's spot or anything."

Reg slowly takes another swig of his drink, gathering his thoughts before answering.   
"I don't live that far from here, actually. It's just that I don't usually come to this bar."  
"Oh? So you're kind of my neighbour, then." Caintil lifts up his glass as well, gulping down some of the light-colored drink in his glass. His way of drinking is completely different from Jin's, who tends to down his glass in one strike. 

The man lowers his glass to continue. "What brings you to this bar, then?"  
"Oh, I don't know. I guess..." Reg's line of thought falters a bit. He still really doesn't know exactly why he came here, and it's not like he can talk about following his gut. It wouldn't make much sense to an outsider. He shakes his head and shrugs. "... I don't really know."

"Huh," Caintil answers, and he takes another drink. Reg follows his lead and empties his glass. Both of them ask for another, and then Reg strikes up the conversation again.  
"What about you? I take it you live around here?"  
"Oh, yeah. It's not the greatest part of this city, but it's pretty okay. I got an easy job, a house..." He pauses, and Reg notices how the lamp's light hits his drinking companion's eyes just right, making the rim of his irises shine like topaz. "But we've all got problems somehow, don't we? We wouldn't be drinking at this time of day were it otherwise."  
Reg tips his head. "I guess so."

"Mine's a classic. My wife, she was a real beauty, but she just up and left," Caintil sighs. There is a dreamy quality to his look, and Reg doesn't really know what to answer.  
"I'm sorry that happened to you."  
"It's fine." Caintil turns back to stare at Reg, the dreamy look gone and replaced by light-heartedness. "It's in the past now, I guess. Shit happens. Do you have a woman in your life?"  
Reg shrugs. "No."  
"Oh? You like men better?"

Reg is surprised by the direct question, and he convulsively swallows his swig of rum. He's slightly taken aback and for a moment, he doesn't know what to answer. He slowly lowers his glass.   
"Look, I think you've got the wrong idea here. I just came to have a drink."  
Suddenly, Caintil explodes with laughter. "What? You think I'm coming onto you?"  
Reg stares at him, feeling like a fool.  
The man chuckles. "Haha, that's rich! Come on, man, I was just wondering. It's fine if it makes you uncomfortable talking about it.."

Reg shrugs. "I don't really give too much thought to that kind of thing."   
It's true that he's never felt anything romantic for anyone, even if he does prefer women. He doesn't see himself falling in love with someone and living with them. He likes being alone with his cat, his computer, and the books he doesn't read. Having Jin to hang around is enough. His job is the only thing that remotely interests him.

Well, now it's different. It changed with Lyan's appearance in his life.   
Reg realizes that only now does he genuinely care for someone. He cares a lot for Jin, and of course sometimes he's able to look after the hurt and damaged people he encounters in his line of work, but he's never felt this concerned for anyone. He's never felt this strong a need to make another person feel better.

So maybe this is what it's like to truly care about someone.

He realizes that Caintil is waiting for the rest of his answer, so he shakes the thoughts away. "I guess it's just not a priority right now."  
The other nods knowingly. "I get it."

Both of the men make small talk for a while and finish drinking two hours later. Reg checks his watch and sees the other following his movements from the corners of his eyes, so he speaks up. "I'm going to go. It was real nice meeting you." He slips a bill under his glass, slides off his stool and goes to stand at the door.  
The other smiles, and gestures some kind of nonchalant goodbye with two fingers of the hand holding his glass up. "Sure. Hope you come back round, maybe I'll be there to greet you."  
Reg salutes back, and exits the bar.

He feels warm inside as he walks away, proud of himself for holding a conversation with a stranger for so long and having made a drinking companion out of said stranger. Of course, he can't have all the credit since Caintil seems to be quite an easy-going and open kind of man, the kind of individual that makes you feel okay with talking about everything and anything at all. 

Despite feeling this good about himself, he can't ignore the uneasy feeling wiggling at the back of his mind. That transparent, colorless feeling lasted throughout their conversation. He didn't feel anything from Caintil, but he's certain that Caintil wasn't trying to hide anything. Every emotion Reg thought he understood wasn't something he detected, but whatever he could grasp from the man's facial expressions and body language. He isn't used to it. It's the first time he's had to observe feelings the way normal people do. He's not sure if he likes it, and meeting someone like Caintil is too important to ignore.

There's something off about this, and if his instincts are telling him to look further into it, then he should try to understand.

He is greeted by Mizzie's twitching whiskers when the door to his house opens.  
He closes the door behind him, pulls off his coat and boots, and walks down the corridor to his bedroom. Falling across his bed, he sprawls out on the sheets, thinking. Trying to understand.  
He lies still, in the slowly darkening room, pondering and nodding off at the same time; his eyelids slowly close, heavy with sleep. Everything is quiet.

Then it hits him, out of the blue, and his eyes open again. 

What if Caintil is like him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin.  
> Reg is kind of awkward with people, even if he tries his best to be nice. He's not very good at long conversations with someone he's just met, since he's used to being a pretty solitary guy on regular basis and doesn't try to meet new people very often. But he tries.  
> Thanks for reading, leave a comment if you feel like it!


	23. The Day Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reg tells Jin what happened at the bar, and Lyan has the dreadful feeling that something bad is about to go down.

When Reg wakes up the next morning, the first thought that crosses his mind is that Lyan may not be coming over. As his feet touch the cold wooden planks of his floor, he tries to remember why he would think that, and what happened the day before: it isn't an easy task, as the questions, doubt, and confusion crash against his skull in waves. 

Oh, that's right. Lyan's glaring eyes resurface from the depths of the murky, muddled and not-so-recovered depths of his mind, which are still a bit affected by last day's drinks. The look on Lyan's face when he caught sight of Reg, and then the way he spoke, almost bristling at him...   
Reg wonders once more what he's done wrong.

He isn't the type to get hungover from just a few drinks, but in the end, maybe he drank a bit too much with that man. Reg isn't as young as he used to be. He may have sobered overnight, but he didn't sober well. His head keeps pounding as he slowly gets off his bed. 

That man.  
Right, there was a man.  
Whose name was...

He can't remember. Reg has the feeling that there's something important he's missing. He tells himself that he'll probably meet that man again if he returns there, and tries to convince himself that it's not that big of a deal that he forgot what he forgot. However, there's something at the back of his head that makes him feel a bit uneasy, telling him that he shouldn't try to convince himself of this.  
Maybe talking to Jin would jog his memory.

His hand reaches for his phone to call Jin, and he blinks the remaining tendrils of sleep away while the phone rings. Jin picks up fast, as usual.  
"Yeah?"  
"Hey. I just wanted to tell you that I went to drink yesterday, and-"  
"Awww... Without me? Reg, come on!"  
"I'm sorry, it just kind of happened! It was in the next district, not the usual place."  
"What were you doing over there? It wasn't your turn to patrol yesterday."  
"Yeah, I know, I just..." Reg rubs his brow, frowning. What was he doing there...? He can't remember why he walked all the way over there.  
"...Reg?"

Oh, right. He hadn't really thought it through. He'd just followed the way his gut had told him to. He shakes his head. "It's nothing. I just happened to meet Lyan over there."  
"Did you call me to tell me you saw the kid? You know I don't care about that."  
"No, no, I just wanted to tell you I met this guy yesterday at the bar... I thought you'd want to know."  
"What kind of guy?"  
"The easy kind. I was able to hold quite a long conversation with him. Over a few hours.  
"Really? That's progress, I guess, considering how awkward you usually are."  
"It's just..."  
"Yeah?"  
"There's something I'm forgetting. I think it's important."  
"Well, what did he look like? You haven't told me his name, so I'm guessing you don't remember that."  
"I don't. I think he was younger than me, but I can't remember much else."  
"Why didn't you call me when yesterday? It would've been a lot easier with your memory still fresh."  
"Yeah, I know... I didn't think."  
"At any rate, I'm not sitting here all day waiting for your shitty memory to reactivate. Just call me when you find what you wanted to tell me."  
"...Yeah, okay." He's about to hang up when he remembers the warm golden irises. "Wait! Wait, hold up, I think I got it! Just..." Jin doesn't say anything, but he doesn't hang up. "It's... I feel like his face is familiar, now that I think about it. I mean, it's not just because I remember him from yesterday, it's more like I know him from- Caintil! Caintil, that's what his name was!"  
"... Okay. Was there something else besides the name?" Jin's smooth voice slides across Reg's fragmented mind, pulling all the scattered elements together.  
"Yeah. There was something else, something really important, I think. It's just..." He pauses, but not for long. It's pretty clear to him that his memories aren't willing to cooperate any more than they already have. "Well, at least we know who I'm talking about. Maybe I'll remember."  
Jin stays silent for a while, as if waiting for Reg to continue, but when he doesn't add anything else, he understands that they're not going any further than this. "...All right. If I'm not too busy, I'll come over."  
"Sure. Thanks for keeping track of my thoughts."  
"S'fine." Jin hangs up, and Reg is left with a beeping in his right ear, boiling thoughts fighting to break through his conscience. He stays still as a statue until Mizzie starts meowing for breakfast, and unfortunately, immobility doesn't help him remember in any way.  
_

He's surprised to hear the door open around noon, and a quick glance around the room confirms the absence of Mizzie.   
So there's a friend here for him.  
He stands up from his chair, setting down the book he was reading, and crosses the corridor to the entryway where he finds Mizzie rubbing her back against Lyan. The boy's on the ground taking off his shoes.

"Lyan?"

The kid turns around to look at Reg, his expression stern as usual. "Hey."   
Then he goes back to pulling off his right shoe.  
"I thought you weren't coming today." Reg pauses and watches as Lyan pets Mizzie's head. He doesn't know why, but he feels like he's supposed to apologize. "I'm... sorry about yesterday. I think."  
The boy lifts an eyebrow without looking at Reg's face. "What are you apologizing for?"  
Reg shrugs. "I don't really know."  
"You're really weird."  
"You're the one who's weird. What happened yesterday?"  
"Yeah, about that. It's..." The boy straightens, shifts a little and continues to avoid Reg's gaze. "Just don't go there anymore."  
"Why?"  
The boy's eyes narrow at Reg. "Stop asking questions, okay? Just don't come anymore."  
"So you live there?" insists the man with an inquisitive stare.

Lyan turns away from both Reg and Mizzie without answering, and starts walking to the living room. The man and the cat follow him.  
"It's fine if you don't want to tell me where you live, but I'm warning you, it's going to be near impossible for me to not come back. I usually go there for work."  
Lyan doesn't pay attention to Reg, his gaze sweeping over the shelves on the wall as he searches for the book he was reading.  
After a small reflexive pause, Reg continues with a puzzled voice: "In fact, I never thought about it, but it's weird we never saw each other in the three years you disappeared."  
"... I never disappeared." Lyan's voice sounds strangely faded, but when Reg catches sight of the boy's face, his expression has already reverted to normal. The moment is gone as fast as it came, so fast that if it weren't for the dip of Lyan's emotions, Reg might've missed it. "Never mind, just don't come to talk to me or anything, if you see me."  
Reg chooses not to comment on what he just noticed, and instead jumps on the occasion. "You don't want to be seen with a stranger?"

Lyan whips around to stare at Reg, a strange look on his face. There's short moment of silent tension, and then Lyan seems to relax and turns back to the shelves.  
"...Kinda. Just pretend we don't know each other." It's actually a perfect excuse to guarantee his own safety, and maybe Reg's, too. That way his father won't know, if the three of them ever happen to come across each other. "Maybe you should tell that to Jin, too." He doesn't care much about Jin, but still... Better safe than sorry.  
"You can tell him yourself, he's probably coming over this afternoon. He said he wanted to talk to me."  
Lyan doesn't answer. He doesn't want to talk to that annoying prick, but if he doesn't have a choice... He can't risk it.

He frowns. Where is that goddamn book?

"Are you looking for a book?" Reg shuffles over to the chair next to the double doors, and picks a book off the table next to it. "Here you go. I was reading it before you came here."  
Lyan recognizes it and is about to tell Reg to go read his own book, but he stops himself from snapping at the man just in time. It would be stupid and childish to react that way, which are both things he doesn't want to be seen as. So he snatches it from Reg's hands and hurries to sit on the couch, out of the man's sight.  
He doesn't really want Reg to read what he's reading, but that's not something he has control over. Does Reg know this is the book he was reading?   
He peers over the couch to see where the older man is, and feels a jolt throughout his body when his stare meets Reg's. Lyan sinks back into the couch. Of course. Out of all the books the man has, it can't be just a coincidence.  
Mizzie brushes her tail against his leg before jumping up on the couch's armrest, settling for some hours' sleep.  
_

When Reg opens the door for him, Jin is half annoyed and half amused to see the radiant look on his friend's face as they greet each other.  
"Let me guess." Jin steps inside and hands the other man his coat. "Lyan's here?"  
"Yes! I thought he wasn't going to come but in the end, he did."  
"Oh? Could it be related to yesterday?"  
Reg frowns. "I didn't tell you?"  
"Nope. But you are going to in just a few seconds. Give me just a..." Jin's shoes slip off and he smiles at Reg. "There. Let's go talk in the kitchen."  
_

"So basically, he doesn't want to see you in the next district? Does he have a problem with seeing me, too?"  
"I told him to tell you that himself, but since you're asking me the question, then yeah. He doesn't want to see you either. Just don't talk to him if you two meet."  
Jin grins. "But what if I feel like talking?"  
"Don't." Reg's serious face never fails to make Jin smile, but he knows he's the only person to find this funny. He sometimes has problems staying straight-faced in the most dire situations. He doesn't really understand why himself, probably a coping mechanism or something. "It'll just make things worse between you two."  
"Not that I care," Jin answers right away. But he kinda gets where Reg is going with this. It's true that it would be a waste to make the situation between him and Lyan any tenser on a whim, especially when Reg cares so much about the boy.

He doesn't quite catch what Reg is muttering at first. "I wonder why his parents let him out all day if they're so strict about curfew and meeting others."  
"That's actually a good question." Jin leans forward, elbows on the table. "That kid's a real mystery, huh? Several months have gone by and we don't know anything about him."  
Reg nods. "Although we did make some progress in the way he interacts with us." He then remembers the day before and frowns. "Actually, it seems that even that's not really true in the end... I really didn't think he could still act so cold with me after all these times he came over."   
The older man looks crestfallen, and Jin softly says: "It's okay, big guy. He's a teen, after all. Remember how I was at his age?"  
"No, that was different. You were crazy." Reg smiles. "And you still are."  
Jin leans on his elbow, his chin nestled in his palm. "I _did_ kill five guys on our last job."  
Reg sighs. "I'm not going to tell you to calm down, because I know you won't, but be careful. Yeah?"  
"Mmh."

Silence stretches between them for a while. Then Jin looks up at Reg.  
"Y'know, about that thing I told you about, you know, when the guy wasn't in his hotel?"  
Reg is briefly confused and feels the gears in his brain freewheeling until they finally snag on the right memory. "Oh, yes, the one you got my help to track down when you tried to make me sniff his scent on that piece of cloth like a dog?"  
Jin's lips form a lopsided grin. "Stop being such a drama queen, and yeah, that time." The young man's eyes then slip to the side to look out the window, his smile slowly sliding off his face. "I kept checking, you know, over and over, and everything seemed right, but I just have this feeling... There's something wrong with the team. I don't think anyone else is seeing it, but I can feel it. We're being played by someone."  
Reg quietly listens to him and watches his friend's expression become stern and rigid, like a mask: a sign that Jin is feeling perturbed. It isn't suprising, considering the team is practically like Jin's family.   
Despite Jin's emotional firewall, Reg can very well feel that the young man is unhappy and that the thought has undoubtedly tormented him for a while.

Jin looks back up at Reg.  
"What do you think?"

Reg gazes at Jin silently, and then leans back.  
"I think that if you feel like something's wrong, then something must be. You're not the kind to be paranoid. You're observant. If my words can reassure you in any way, then I will tell you this: I don't believe you're making this up." He pauses. "I know you won't like me saying this, but considering those guys' backgrounds, I wouldn't be surprised if one of them turned out to be rotten. You know what I'm saying?"

The young man's lips are set in a straight line, and his expression doesn't waver when Reg speaks his mind. He simply takes it all in without moving. Reg knows that his words hold a harsh truth, as does Jin, judging from the slightly displeased feeling emanating from him.  
"Look, I know you've been thinking it for a while and I know it's a whole different matter when someone actually gives a shape to your suspicions through words, but if you know something's wrong then you have to take matters in your own hand. I can't do this for you. I'm not a member of your team, I'm an extra, someone you call when things are too much for just the six of you. They don't trust me, and I don't trust them. I'm on your side, but the truth is, you're on your own for this. If you want to make sure then you're going to have to work on this from the inside."

Jin witholds his gaze as Reg speaks, and the older man knows that what he's saying is something Jin knows, and has known, ever since his first suspicions arose, but that he needed to hear from someone other than himself.

"You think I can do this," he states in his soft, modulated voice. It doesn't sound like a question, in fact it sounds like Jin is very sure of himself, but Reg knows that Jin wants to be sure. He can see an infinitely small shimmer of doubt in Jin's chest.  
Jin may act like a self-asserted prick, but he's still young. This whole situation is big, a lot bigger than someone his age should handle, especially when they're alone. Yet Jin is not an average 20 year old young man, and not someone Reg likes to see doubt himself.

"I'm positive you can," he answers firmly.

Jin nods in a very subtle dip of the chin, and says: "It's going to take a long time."  
"It is," agrees Reg. The tiny sliver of doubt within Jin is hardening into resolve, the cold and determined matter that Jin is made of, and the man knows that Jin needed his advice to get his head completely back in the game. He wonders why Jin could have doubted in the first place. It was small, and almost invisible, but Reg had felt it.  
Jin isn't usually one to feel that way. It's probably because he cares more about this then he lets on. Reg knows for a fact that Jin considers his teammate Thomas as an equal, even if he doesn't treat him as such. If it turned out that Thomas was the traitor...

Jin seems to know what Reg is thinking and for once, he is the one to read another's mind. "I think it could have the potential to disturb me if Tom turned out to be that way, but not only is it extremely unlikely, I probably wouldn't care that much if it did happen." Jin shrugs. "I get over that kind of thing pretty fast. I don't even know why I needed to talk to you about this, since it's pretty clear to me now that what I thought could be a problem isn't actually one, but thanks anyway."  
"No problem," answers Reg.

He relaxes his focus on Jin's feelings, and that's when he notices another kind of emotion coming from someone that isn't in the room with them: anxiety. He looks up at the clock - is it that time already? - noticing that its hands have almost reached the time when Lyan usually leaves, simultaneously realizing that Lyan must be feeling very worried for Reg to catch this strong a feeling from several feet away.

He turns his head back to Jin, who's noticed his change of behaviour.  
"What is it?" asks Jin.  
"Lyan," answers Reg. "Let me check on him. Stay here, or you're just going to make him feel worse."  
"What is it?" repeats Jin, this time to get the details.  
"I don't know why, but he's feeling anxious."  
"Okay. I'll stay put."

Reg pushes himself off the side of the counter and strides out of the kitchen, almost running into the boy on the way out. Lyan seems as startled as him when Reg narrowly avoids the collision, but then his face snaps back into a closed-off expression and he says: "I'm leaving for today."  
"I can see that. Are you feeling okay?" asks Reg worriedly, still feeling the boy's anxiety from where he stands. Something's definitely wrong. Reg has a sense of _déjà vu_ , and he soon manages to remember what this situation reminds him of: that time with the flour. Lyan seems to be in the same state of panic.  
The boy's movements are quick and hurried as he gets ready to leave, and he doesn't look Reg in the eye when he answers. "I'm fine. What are you asking that for?"  
"...No reason."

Reg feels like something is very wrong and that Lyan shouldn't leave like this, but just like every other time this happens, he can't hold Lyan back no matter how much he wants to.  
Lyan walks past Reg to press the door's switch and as the door opens, Reg tries to buy a little more time.  
"Are you sure everything's all right?" he says without thinking, and Lyan promptly glares at him.  
"Reg, seriously. Stop it." The boy steps up to the doorway, and pauses. Then he turns back towards the man and says: "I don't know why you're so worried about how I'm feeling, but I've told you before and I'm telling you again: you shouldn't care so much about that kind of thing. You know I won't tell you what you want to know, so... stop caring. It's not worth it."

As Lyan speaks, Reg doesn't only notice the small emotion of regret hidden behind all that anxiety, but also the softness of the boy's voice that breaks through his last words. Lyan is talking the way a condemned prisoner would, like he knows something bad is going to happen, something he won't tell Reg no matter what happens.

Reg would give anything to know what it is, but asking what's wrong a third time isn't going to help. The only thing he can do is helplessly say: "Come back again soon, all right?"  
It's all he can offer.

Lyan nods wordlessly and walks out of the house as Reg looks on, in a familiar scene which they repeat each time the boy leaves.  
Only this time, they both know something's going on, something's about to happen, something neither of them dares to stop.  
Something big and bad they don't do anything about until it's too late.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin.  
> Things were going well... until now. Next chapter is going to be harsh.  
> Thanks for reading, leave a comment if you feel like it!


	24. Insane Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyan goes back to his father's, but this time, the man is mad. Really mad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Physical abuse in this chapter.

When Lyan leaves Reg's house, the worrying feeling that something is about to go deadly wrong gets stronger and stronger as he walks. He has some idea of what it could be, but he can't avoid it forever. He can never avoid this feeling for long. The feeling just gets more and more pressing as he gets closer to "home".

As he opens the door to Caintil's house, a sense of foreboding twists his insides when he sees that his father is standing in the living room, as if waiting for him. Ice cold dread fills his head, burning his insides as it slides down to his chest when his father's head turns to the door, his eyes catching Lyan's before he can look away.  
"Illyaaan." Caintil drawls, a dangerous glint in his eye.   
Lyan's answer is cautious. "Hello, dad." 

It's pretty obvious that Caintil already has something to reproach him anyway. He can see it in the way his father is sticking his hands in the pockets of his jeans, in a deceptively nonchalant way. In the glint of his father's deceptively warm eyes. In his father's deceptively nice smile.

Caintil beckons him in the house. "Come in and close the door, Illyan."   
Lyan does as told, not daring to take a step in any direction, waiting for the next order.  
"So, Illyan." Caintil leisurely paces towards the sofa, easing himself on the various cushions. "What did you do today?"   
His legs cross, his left foot on his right knee, like they're two old friends catching up on good times.  
Lyan swallows, trying not to convey how nervous he is. He knows this is a trick question. "I was... I stayed in the district, didn't go far."

"Hmmm," nods his father. "I've been wondering why you seem so.... eager to go outside every morning. I used to have to kick your sorry ass outside." He cocks his head, in a mock gesture of naive curiosity. "So, I'll ask again. What did you do today?"  
Lyan gulps again, he feels his armpits and the back of his knees dampening slowly. He doesn't know what to answer. He doesn't want his father to know about Reg. He just feels like it's a bad thing to tell Caintil.

Caintil's smile lessens. Lyan feels a wave of panic wash over him. He took too long to answer.  
His father's legs slowly uncross, in a predatory motion that only his father can pull off. "Illyan."  
Lyan tries not to shudder at the tone of his father's voice. His eyes waver as Caintil continues speaking. "Could it be...?"  
Lyan's stare drops to the ground. He can't stand looking his father in the eye anymore.  
"You're lying to me?" Caintil's voice has dropped several octaves lower. Lyan quickly shakes his head, staring at the ground, wishing it could swallow him whole.

Ahead of him, he sees his father's shadow move. He swallows, feels his eyes heating up, his nose prickling. He won't cry. This is nothing.  
Caintil's footsteps are slow and muffled by the carpet, but steady. His voice is low, very low, dangerously low. "You want to betray me too?"  
"No, dad." Lyan backs off, tries to edge out of the room as Caintil's menacing presence approaches him. He raises his eyes to see Caintil's face, to see if he's in danger. His wide pair of eyes collide with his father's.  
"You little slut." Caintil's lips pull back in a kind of snarl. "You're just like her. Those eyes."

Lyan knows what's coming and lifts his arms, but too late. The blow comes faster than expected. His head jerks to the side. "Ow!"  
He feels his cheek, looking back up at Caintil. His father's eyes are trained on him like a mad dog about to bite. Fresh fear constricts Lyan's lungs, and suddenly he can't breathe very well.  
Caintil's hand moves unpredictably fast, and Lyan can barely flinch before his father slaps his face again and the world shakes a bit.   
"Ow...."   
It hurts, but Lyan's eyes only feel a bit fuzzy. His cheek is on fire.

Caintil keeps backing him up against the wall. "Illyan... I knew you weren't any good." His voice sounds calm on the surface, but Lyan knows that the surface is about to break.   
His father rises his fist this time, and Lyan lifts a hand, his eyes closing on impulse. Lyan's head snaps to the other side, something in his neck cracks. The sound of the impact echoes through the room.

This time, Lyan's lower lip is split. There's blood on the carpet. Or maybe it's another nosebleed.   
"Look at you. You can't do anything but be a dirty piece of shit." Caintil's eyes narrow.  
Lyan feels his eyes dampen. He won't cry. Not. Cry.  
"You're just like your whore mother." Caintil hisses, his face mere centimeters away from Lyan's face. Lyan tries not to flinch. There's no alcohol on Caintil's breath yet.

The punch is swift, and Lyan doesn't realize he got hit before he doubles over and starts gagging. He can't breathe, he feels like his stomach is jumping out of his throat, his intestines are flipping.  
"See." Caintil's voice is right next to his ears as Lyan struggles to regain his breath. "You can't even stand up straight. Where's you're fucking spine?"  
Suddenly Lyan feels the hand on his neck and he's thrown back up against the wall.  
"WHERE'S YOUR FUCKING SPINE, YOU USELESS PIECE OF SHIT?" roars Caintil, holding on tight to Lyan's throat.

Lyan's eyes panic and his hands scrabble at the vice-like hands.  
 _Get off me._

Caintil's eyes grow dangerously narrow, his golden eyes mere slits as Lyan starts to choke, clawing at the hands crushing his neck.  
 _Get off me._

Caintil growls: "Are you trying to hurt me?"   
His voice is so low it's practically inaudible. Lyan doesn't hear it. His skin is crawling at the feeling of the hands on his neck  
 _Get off me get off me get off me get off me_

Caintil's grip gets even tighter. Lyan's eyes are starting to roll back, his gaping mouth searching for air. His hands grow weak, but they continue scratching at the unforgiving hands  
 _GET OFF ME GET OFF ME GET OFF ME_

Caintil throws him to the ground. Lyan is left gasping, coughing, struggling for air, his lungs aching, his ears ringing as he holds his throat. He hears a cupboard opening, the clink of glass against the table, liquid sloshing. He can feel his eyelashes getting wet. He closes his eyes.   
_Not the alcohol._

His newly recovered breath is knocked out of his lungs by Caintil's kick. Lyan's eyes snap wide open at the pain.   
"Agh!"  
Something in his body is blocked, he can't... he can't breathe, he can't-  
"Look, Illyan. I drink because of you." Caintil smiles gently, all anger gone from his face, before downing half of the glass. "See? You want some?"  
Lyan frantically shakes his head, trying to breath, but Caintil doesn't let him. He pours the rest of the drink on Lyan's face. Lyan sputters, coughing up the liquid, and Caintil stomps on his stomach.  
"Hhh..." Lyan's eyes go wide, but he can't scream. Not enough breath. He keeps coughing.  
Caintil kneels down next to him, his face a mask of feigned interest.   
"Well, well, well...." 

He takes a handful of Lyan's hair, lifting his face up. Lyan whimpers in pain.   
"Look at you, Illyan. You thought you could run away from me? You don't have the guts to stand up to me, so you try sneaking your way out of here?" Caintil drops the mask, sneering at Lyan. "You make me laugh." Lyan is thrown back to the floor, his head colliding heavily with the tiles. "Ack!" His hands fly up to his head, and that's the moment Caintil chooses to stomp on Lyan's stomach again.  
Lyan screams. Or tries to, at least.  
Caintil chuckles. "It's always the same thing I do to you, Illyan. You have to protect your stomach with your arms, don't you get it?"

Lyan's eyes are full of fear and pain when he looks up at his father, but Caintil doesn't like that.  
His fist comes crashing down on Lyan's face. "You think you can look me in the _eye_? YOU THINK YOU'RE GOOD ENOUGH TO LOOK ME IN THE _EYE_?"

Caintil's foot comes down on Lyan's stomach a third time, Lyan's loud scream and sobs filling the room. "P-Please stop, please stop, dad, please- AAAAAAAH!" The foot is crushing Lyan's lower region. Caintil fills himself another glass, downs it. Brings it down on the table. Lyan flinches.  
"D-dad, stop it, please, s-st-" he pleads, in agony.   
"Shut _up_ , you _faggot_. You were seen with that man. You know I have eyes and ears all across this area, why do you try and defy me?" 

His foot presses harder, Lyan's screaming voice cracks a bit. "I can't even feel anything down there, you sure you're a man?" Caintil's sadistic grin widens. "I don't think so. You're a slut. You want to run away with that man, huh? You want to go so bad?"  
"N-no, n-no, no, dad, n-ah, AAAAH!" Lyan screams, writhing underneath Caintil, tears running down his face.  
His father kicks him in the ribs to shut him up. "To think you're my _son_." His words become less articulated. "You think you're so smart, huh?"

He kicks again. Lyan's ribs  
And again. and Lyan's arms  
And again. and Lyan's legs  
And again. and Lyan's stomach.

Lyan groans, another kick to the stomach shuts him up.

He tries to protect himself with his arms, but Caintil pries them away, pinning Lyan's left wrist down on the floor and crushing it with his foot.  
Lyan's scream is muffled as Caintil shoves his hand in the boy's face. His father leans closer to his ear, his voice practically a purr: "My friends are coming over today, you know." Lyan's eyes widen. "I think they would love to see you, and I'm a bit short of money, you see." 

Lyan tries to shake his head, his eyes becoming wildly panicked. His protest is muffled by the palm of his father's hand, which easily covers up half of his face.  
 _No, no, no I don't want it! I don't want it!_  
"Mmmh!"

Caintil leans in even closer. "Oh yes, you want to see them, don't you?" His grin is wide, his canines glinting to the light of the room's unique lamp. "I'm sure you'll enjoy it very much, just like all the other times."  
Fresh tears roll down each side of Lyan's face as he struggles, trying to break free of the repulsive hand.

Caintil only smirks, his hand pressing down harder on Lyan's face and leaning with one knee on his tender and rapidly bruising stomach.   
"MmmmmMMMMMH!"   
Lyan's eyes are bulging, salty rivers of pain flowing down his cheeks. The muffled shrieks are delightful music to his father's ears, and Caintil's smile is inhumanely wide. He removes his hand from his son's mouth to listen to his desperate pleas.

"Ah-AAAAAAAH! STOP IT, PLEASE! DAD, PLEASE! PLEASE, PLEASE STOP, STOP! I'M SORRY!"

The boy starts sobbing uncontrollably, his pained shrieks becoming erratic and breathless.

"I'M S-SORRY, DAD, PLEASE-"

Caintil doesn't move. He weighs down on his son's injured stomach and bad wrist while Lyan's breath grows short as his diaphragm gets crushed under his father's knee.   
He's unable to breathe, his shouts of agony gradually dying down into choked sounds of despair.

"D-Dad- Please... Hhh... P-Please..."

He tries to fight for air despite the pain and the aching of his lungs and the weight on his stomach, but Caintil pushes down even harder when he feels the spasms of the boy's abdomen under his knee becoming wilder and more irregular. 

Lyan can't speak anymore and the room stops echoing with his begging, replaced by the sound of quick, frenzied panting in a last attempt to inhale precious air.

And then, even that sound dies down.

Caintil leisurely removes himself from his son's bruised and extenuated body.

His smile disappears, and he casts the boy a seemingly honest look of concern as he asks: "Are you alright, Illyan?"  
When the boy doesn't react, Caintil checks his son's face and notices that the boy passed out from the pain - or maybe from lack of oxygen. 

He smiles to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin.  
> This isn't even over. Things are going to get even harder in the next chapter, and the chapter after that... Seriously, you'll get why Lyan acts so freaking defensive around people.  
> (Alna_king, this early update is for you *points both fingers at you and winks*)  
> Thanks for reading, leave a comment if you feel like it!


	25. Inhumane Humans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyan has to face another of the moments he hates most in his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning, this chapter includes non consensual sexual acts.

When Lyan wakes up, everything is dark, everything hurts. He's thirsty. He's hungry. He's cold. His head is pounding, drilling his brain, crushing his eyes. His lungs ache, his ribs are pulsating, his legs and arms throb, his stomach is excruciatingly painful, his throat is horribly sore, his neck... Lyan's heart skips a beat and his eyes shoot open, pupils fully blown.  
There's something on his neck.  
There's something on his neck!  
Then panic drowns out any last bit of reason he has left. Lyan starts struggling wildly, in a complete and utter frenzy.  
Hysteria creeps up on the edges of his mind  
_get it off_  
get it off  
get it off get it off get it off  
GET IT OFF GET IT OFF GET IT OFF

The door opens with a bang, making Lyan jump. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SCREAMING FOR?"  
Caintil charges in, livid, and lurches towards Lyan's seat.  
Lyan eyes adjust to the light and he barely has the time to register that he's in a shack before his vision flickers, his father's fist ramming in the side of his head. The seat topples over, and Lyan with it. His breath escapes his lungs as he lands hard on his side.  
Caintil is towering over him, breathing heavily, stinking of alcohol.  
Lyan's eyesight needs some time to adjust after the hard landing, but he soon notices a small heap of clothes in the corner of the shack. His clothes. A chill shoots through his spine when he realizes that he's naked from the waist up. 

That's when he hears hearty laughs from afar. He struggles to sit up and looks outside, sees no one, and his eyes go back to Caintil, anxiously questioning his father.  
Caintil's lip pull back in a semblance of a smile as he crosses his arms. "They're here, Illyan. They've been waiting for you to wake up." Lyan's eyes widen, pure undissimulated fright showing through every feature of his face. Caintil continues talking.  
"Because you ran away last time," he adds, gesturing towards Lyan with his chin, "I thought.... maybe I should give you a little something to help you stay in here as long as you need to stay." His smile twists even further when Lyan realizes, to his horror, what's been holding his neck. 

A dog collar.

His face heats up with frustration, humiliation, and hate. He glares at his father, something he hasn't done in a long time. But his father just chuckles. "Look at yourself, Illyan. That's what you get for acting like such a bitch in heat. A leash! How fitting."  
Lyan's tears escape from his eyes, tears of bitter resentment and absolute loathing.  
His voice cracks as a sob breaks the middle of his sentence. "Why are you doing this to me, dad?"  
Caintil's sardonic smile only widens as he answers. "You disobey me. You betray me. Had you been a good boy, Illyan, I wouldn't have needed to do this."  
Lyan shakes his head desperately, choking on his tears. "I don't want this, dad. I don't want this. I don't want this. I don't-" The kick to his abdomen is fast, leaving him gasping and hacking on the floor.

Caintil steps back and sighs, shaking his head. "Illyan, Illyan, Illyan.... You should know you don't have a say in this." He crouches and grabs his son by the hair, closing the gap between his and Lyan's face, whispering. "You should be grateful, you ungrateful little son of a whore, that they can't rape you. Trust me, you wouldn't be in any state to complain if they could."  
Lyan can't help the panicked, strangled sobs emanating from his chest.  
He wants Reg.  
But what he wants doesn't matter here.

His father draws back, and he reaches to the side for something. Lyan's heart drops when he recognizes the blindfold. He doesn't try to shy away from his father's hands as they secure the blindfold over his eyes, although every fiber of his body is screaming at him, chanting the same chorus over and over again: get away, get away, get away. The darkness closes in around him, and the only things he can rely on are his hearing and his sixth sense.  
He can hear the smirk on Caintil's voice as the man moves away. "And here's the gag. Thought I'd lost it. You would've been happy to know it was gone, huh? You just love screaming with that cute voice of yours. That's what they told me, at any rate." Lyan feels his father's fingers push his face back and force the disgusting plastic ball between his jaws. "Gross. Do you have to slobber all over it all the time?"  
Lyan doesn't answer. He's too concentrated on trying to repress any feelings to prepare for the horrors that both the blindfold and gag ensue. His father exits the shack, calling out to the people outside.  
"He's all yours. The rules are the same, but this time he's got a collar. I'm the only one who can take it off, so don't even try."

Lyan hears a collective rush of voices as the shack fills with bodies. Everything around him is pulsating with danger, danger, danger, danger. He hears clacking around him, whispering and giggling and laughing. He can make out three voices, all men, and the presence of two other people aside from the voices, and that's as far as he gets before someone starts touching him.  
His bruised skin throbs at the touch, his body instantly jerking away from the hand, and he tries to back away from the voices, as he always tries to do. But it never works, and soon he feels someone else behind him, so he tries to avoid that person too.  
"So lively. Each time I see this boy, I tell myself we're lucky to have met Caintil." The gruff voice... He knows it. That man comes by often.  
"True. The other places don't usually have such cute and durable boys."  
"Bruises, again. Good thing we're here to make you feel all better." The last voice is sugary, and he hates that voice. He hates it so much. He hates it the most. It's always trying to convince him that he likes it, but he doesn't, and he'll never like it, ever.

He can't evade the third person and feels hands grab him by the shoulders, pain shooting through his muscles, and he shivers as his skin crawls under the touch. Disgust and fear ripple through him in waves, but he tries to hide it all away deep inside of him. He struggles against the arms holding him in place, but another person grabs his wrists and wrenches them behind his back. He barely holds back a groan of pain at the brutal movement, and he feels rope flitting across his lower back as they start tying his hands together.  
"Haha, look at those goosebumps. He's already shivering in anticipation. You like it so much, don't you, Illyan? You can't wait for us to play with you," the voice purrs in his ear, and he feels something nuzzle his neck.

Lyan shakes his head violently, but he knows that it's futile to try to communicate with them. The sounds he makes only serve to excite them even more. The person behind him finishes tying his hands together, and he's violently pushed to the ground, landing on the same side as earlier. The pain makes him grunt, and he instantly feels how horny the men grow at the sound. He tries to get back up, but someone pins his feet to the ground while another person holds his head down.  
And there he is, helpless. Waiting for the inevitable to happen.

The buzzing sound makes him twitch, and he starts struggling again, to no avail. He doesn't want this. He doesn't want this. He feels the buzzing drawing closer, and someone opening his pants and drawing them down, and the panic is rising in his chest, and breathing gets hard, and then the buzzing touches his underwear and he jolts. He can't, he doesn't want to, he never asked for this, never, never, why does it happen to him? He can feel his eyes getting wet again. Why is he crying so much these days? Why is he so weak?

Then he feels someone grab his chin and pull it back harshly, exposing his throat to the others. He tries to shake his head free from the clammy hand holding his face in place, and if he didn't have the gag on he'd open his mouth wide and sink his teeth in the hairy skin. Unfortunately, the only thing he can do is try to shake the hand off of his face.  
"Stop moving, you fuck!"  
Lyan feels another hand grip his hair and give it a hard tug. Pain radiates through his skull as he's forced to stay still, but he tries to fight back against the man's grip anyway. He tries to shake his head, the muscles in his neck tensing up, and muffled grunts escape from his gagged mouth in protest.  
He can't break free, no matter how hard he struggles against the men's grip, and soon he feels something prick the side of his neck. He tries to jerk away, but it's too late. He can feel the fuzzy warm feeling that he hates so much spreading across his veins, across his skin, across his body.

The vibrator pushes further against his skin, following the lines of his briefs, and he doesn't want it, he really doesn't, but it starts to feel good. He doesn't want it to feel good. He struggles weakly, trying to shake his head, but the hands won't let him move, and his skin crawls and wriggles under the repelling hands.  
Soon his briefs are removed and he can't help moaning when someone starts stroking him. He hates it, he hates that it feels good, and if he could he'd make his brain stop it all, stop the rocking of his hips against the hand holding him, but he can't, he can't stop the sounds or the movements of his body. His muscles spasm when something cold is drizzled on his upper half, and then slimy hands start caressing his tender and bruised stomach, and he hates it he hates it so much but they won't stop even if he tells them to stop, because he can only moan and it turns them on so bad.

"Didn't think he'd get hard so fast," says a third voice. He doesn't recognize it.  
"That's because you're new. This boy is meant for this kind of thing. He loves it."  
The sweet voice makes Lyan want to puke, and he would, if their actions weren't leading his body to believe it was being pleasured.  
It lasts forever, the touching, the fondling, the stroking, and it makes him want to tear off his own skin, leave it behind with all of his dirty self. By the time they take off the gag, he can't tell them to fuck off because he's so lost in his own needy body that his brain doesn't work properly anymore. His hips keep pushing up, towards the hand wrapped around him, drowsiness filling his head. Someone kisses him, and it's horrible, the tongue forcing itself down his throat, and he gags but they don't care, they keep licking his mouth and his face and it's absolutely sickening.

Then he hears something crack in the air, and suddenly there's a stinging, blinding pain across his chest, and he screams.  
"Hey, wait, I'm not sure that's a good idea."  
"What do you mean? Look, he likes it, he's hard." Another crack, another welt. Lyan's body spasms.  
"I don't think-"  
"Hey, look, did no one tell you we could do what we wanted?"  
"Caintil doesn't mind, you know."  
High-pitched whistle, crack. Lyan screams again. He can't do much else.  
"Haha, yeah, scream you little bitch. You love it when we make you scream."  
"Really-"  
"Shut up, seriously! You're killing the mood here!"  
"..."  
"Okay, fine, I guess it's because you're new. You've never done this before?"

There's a brief moment of silence.

"That's what I thought. You'll start enjoying yourself soon enough. I don't feel like it anymore, so last one, Illyan, brace yourself!"  
The boy doesn't have the time to comprehend what the voice just said before the whip rips through his skin again, and his scream breaks a little at the end. He pants, unable to formulate thoughts, the stings still burning and throbbing across his sweaty skin. He can't move, he can't do anything, and his body twitches in the aftershock of pain.

"Nice."  
"It looks good on him, could've gone for another one."  
"It's fine like this, we don't want to make things too messy. Maybe towards the end."  
"Yeah, fine by me."  
"Same here."

Lyan doesn't really understand everything that's said above him, lost in a hazy drug-induced state, and he doesn't notice it when the gag falls out of his mouth and his own spit dribbles down his chin, but his eyes widen under the blindfold when fingers are violently shoved down his throat, and he starts to cough and hack at the sudden thrusting, his throat working to expel the fat, meaty fingers.  
"Fuck, yeah. Imagine putting your dick in there."  
"Would be the greatest."

Suddenly, he feels someone grab his thighs and pull them apart. Fingers play around his hole, and someone starts inserting something. Lyan squirms away from the repulsive intrusion, but then a new, overwhelming kind of pain in his groin makes that the least of his worries. He tries to scream when he feels the horrible crushing sensation, and desperately tries to wriggle out of it, to no avail. Someone punches him in the side and he pushes out a choked grunt.

He starts suffocating, the hand shoved even further and filling up his throat, and someone starts pulling on the leash. The feeling of his windpipe getting crushed sends waves of horror down his spine as he struggles against it, strangled sounds escaping his throat, his legs kicking out as he tries to escape. A sharp pain makes his head jerk to the left when someone slaps him across the face.  
"Stop struggling! I thought the drug was enough?"  
"It is, I don't know why he's so energetic all of a sudden. Usually that's all that's needed to calm him down."  
"Give him another dose."  
"Are you sure that's reasonable? Caintil will get our asses killed if he ODs."  
"It's fine, it's not that dangerous."

Lyan can't resist it at all when someone pulls his head back a second time and he barely feels the prick of the needle. Before long, everything disappears in a white fog. His trashing dims to twitching muscles, drool trickling down the sides of his open mouth as he tries to breathe, but he can't, and it hurts, and his lungs ache and his neck is going to break, and he feels something wet and warm dripping down his thighs.

Someone lifts his right leg above his head.  
"Shit, he peed himself. Gross."  
"I though it turned you on."  
"Pissing on him, yeah, not the other way around."  
"Can't be helped. You just gave him more than he's used to."  
The noises he makes are reduced to strangled croaks and his hands spasm, trying to lift up to the collar, just to loosen it a bit, just to breathe a bit. But his arms are too heavy, and he can't do aything but lie there and slowly, slowly choke.

A thought crosses his mind, in a part of his brain where the drugs haven't blocked everything out completely: _maybe this is it_.

"Fuck, THE LEASH, YOU'RE STEPPING ON THE LEASH!"  
"Shit!"  
"Move, you fucking moron!"  
Lyan doesn't hear the rest of the men's words, his hands convulse one last time. His eyes slowly roll to the back of his head before his body goes limp, and his consciousness drifts far, far away, far from the disgusting men and sounds and smells.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin.  
> Unsurprisingly, Caintil's friends are filth. This kind of thing is an integral part of Lyan's life, and a regular one at that, so it's no wonder he's so guarded all the time.  
> Thanks for reading, leave a comment if you feel like it!


	26. Death Looms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Contrary to what people tend to think, death is never that far away.

Lyan wakes up groggily for the eighth time, his face numb against the stone cold ground.  
How long has he been here? It seems like forever to him.  
He can still feel the weight of the collar around his neck, no one has let him out of it. He pushes down the insane need to scream at the feeling of the rigid fabric around his throat. He needs to get it together, he needs to leave this place.

He lifts his head off the ground, slowly, carefully, pain coursing through his spine. His bones scream as the dull aches in his body intensify. The soreness in his muscles slowly wakes up. One by one, his body remembers the beating, and the drugging, and the-

_Pain._

That's it. Just the pain. Nothing else counts, don't think about it, just the pain counts.  
He can feel his clothes on him. Someone dressed him back up before leaving. That's that, at least.

His eyes come across the bright outline of the closed door against the darkness of the shack. Why is it closed? Did his father forget he had a leash on, that he couldn't leave? Did he lock the door without checking if Lyan was gone or not? He feels his breath stutter just for a moment, before repressing the slowly rising panic in his head. He can't just jump to conclusions like this.  
He needs to get out.  
His stomach twists painfully and he lets out a gasp, his hand flying to his abdomen. "Guh..."

_Hungry._

He needs to get out.  
He slowly extends his arm and flattens his palm on the ground, hissing at the shooting pain.  
Then the other arm.  
Raises one leg to place his foot forward.  
Pulls.  
The pain bursts, he sees white.  
And passes out again, the ground rushing up to his face.

_Cold._

When Lyan wakes up again, there's a throbbing pain in the front of his skull. Sharp needles prick his brain, his eyelids are heavy and a bit too warm. And there's a roaring, aching emptiness in his belly.  
He has no idea how long he was out on the ground.

_Hungry._

His muscles twitch, reminding him of his injuries as a fresh wave of pain hits him.  
"Ow..." His hand flutters unconsciously down to his stomach again.  
His eyes squeeze shut, and he can hear his breathing coming in rapid, shallow bursts.

_It hurts._

No, he can't go back to sleep now.  
His eyes snap back open, resolute. He has to get out somehow.

To his horror, he realizes he can barely move, even if he wants to. It's the hunger, or the pain, but Lyan knows that this is really bad. He really has to get out. Now.  
Lyan crawls slowly to the door.  
He's so numb with the cold, his mind doesn't quite register his body's protests.  
He needs to reach the door. He needs to reach it, or he's done for.  
His body is shaking, shaking, uncontrollable.  
Is he cold?  
Is he sick?  
He has to reach that door.  
Please, let him reach it. He needs to get out.  
He needs to, he needs to, he needs to  
Slowly, he inches towards the door.

He knows there's no reason they would have closed the door yet left it unlocked. But he hopes.

_Cold._

Maybe this time, he forgot.  
Maybe, just maybe, Lyan will get out.

 _Hungry_.

Finally, the door is right in front of his face. Lyan can feel the cold, sharp wind blowing through the cracks between the floor and the door. The outside is there. It's just _there_.

_Cold._

But at the same time, the leash tugs and tugs at his sanity and his skin crawls under his soiled clothes and under the stained fabric coiled around his neck and he feels disgus-  
Don't think about it, don't think about it, just the pain, just the pain.  
He needs to get up.  
His muscles ache, they won't answer. His body is clamoring for some small bit of rest.  
No. He has to get out, he has to get out, now. The urge to escape won't allow him to sleep. The shack is filling with swirling ominous shadows of danger that dance at the edge of Lyan's vision. He doesn't really know what he's expecting to happen, but it's bad, very bad.  
He has to get out, no matter the obstacles.  
He has to.

_Hungry._

Trembling, he brings himself on all fours, almost toppling over, catching his breath.  
His head spins, waves of nausea crash over his body.  
He waits for the dizziness to go away.  
He brings himself to his knees, feeling his weak muscles trembling, and pulls one foot up.  
He's almost there, his fingers an inch from the handle.  
Almost there...  
Almost...  
So close...  
In desperation, he lunges towards the handle, finally gripping it.  
His last forces are snuffed out, the leash strangling him as he pulls on the handle.

No.  
No.  
No way.  
It's locked. It can't be!  
No no no no no.  
No! It won't budge! It... It won't budge!  
Reality comes crashing down  
_I'm gonna die._  
He can't stand the feeling of the taught leash anymore, leaning to the side, giving it some slack.

Illyan's throats swells up. The world suddenly spins and he can't breathe as tears well up in his eyes.  
His legs give out and he slowly slides down the wall, a harsh sob escaping his throat.  
_Why?_  
What has he done? What has he ever done to deserve this?  
_Why?_  
His stomach twists, he shivers and hunches over.  
It's cold, so, so cold.  
_I'm gonna die._  
His head hurts. His eyelids are burning with red and black  
shifting  
swirling  
flitting shapes, fever cooking his brain despite the cold gritty floor against his forehead.  
_I don't wanna die._  
He wishes for Reg.  
_Please come, Reg. Please. Please. Please._  
The sobs turn soft and quiet, but they rack his weak, worn out body.  
_Help me._  
Help me.  
Help me.  
_

Through the thick fog of his extenuated mind, Illyan hears the door unlock and creak. He barely twitches. His whole body is one unique ache, an ache that reaches every little fiber of his being, an ache he's grown used to. Nausea slips in and out of existence with each pang of hunger that shoots through his stomach.  
Is it over? Can he go now?

"Ah, shit. I knew I forgot something."

Illyan can feel tears filling the crack of his semi-closed eyelids, about to spill. It's not Reg. It's Him.

The man kneels next to him and roughly grabs him by the collar, brutally pulling the boy to him. Illyan feels his breath hitch, but he doesn't have the strength to fight him, or to even react. His father brutally pushes his head to the side and fiddles with the back of the collar, and finally it clicks open and falls off Illyan's neck.  
He can feel cold air flowing over the scratches and bruises circling his throat. He can't quite breathe freely, like the collar is still there, restraining and choking him.  
The man pushes Illyan to the side, letting him fall limply to the ground.

"Hey. Get up. Move." 

Illyan doesn't react. He hears his father's voice, but at the same time, he doesn't. He sees shoes move in front of his face, but at the same time, he doesn't. He can't bring himself to care. At all.

"I said, get up." 

Illyan knows what's coming, but doesn't move. He can't move. He can't even bring his body to brace itself. The man's shoe rams in his stomach, and Illyan gasps.

"MOVE!"

Illyan doesn't move. His empty stomach flips and twists painfully as nausea builds up inside.

He hears the rustling of his father's clothes amidst the sounds of his own laboured breathing and the man's fingers grab him by the hair to pull him up. Excruciating pain explodes all throughout his head. Illyan's eyes crack open and he sees his father's golden eyes staring in contempt.

"You're sick _again_?" 

Illyan doesn't answer. His mouth is dry, his lips are cracked, and he feels horrible. Waves of nausea mixed with throbbing pain assault him and he feels like any attempt to speak could end up badly.

The man shakes his head and sighs. "You're so fucking useless. Can't even get up on your own."

His father roughly handles Illyan into a half-sitting, half-standing position to get him off the ground, but the sudden change of height makes Illyan incredibly dizzy. Nausea overwhelms him and he doubles over without warning, his retching echoing in the shack.

"What the f- You're _puking_ on me?!"

The arms disappear and Illyan feels himself reeling back, his body hitting the ground with a hard thump. His head smacks against the ground and he sees stars.

"You. Little. Shit." The hideous voice is tense with anger and pure hate, and completely dissonant to Illyan's ears. He closes his eyes, welcoming the darkness behind his eyelids. 

Suddenly, a shoe connects with the side of his head, and he's lying on his side again, wheezing, hurting, dying. There's a thin, tinny sound in his ear. Daggers of pain pierce the side of his face, and he thinks there might be something wet and warm spreading across the skin of his cheek, but he's not really sure.

"You fucking whore! That's how you thank me?!"

Illyan feels spit landing on his face. He sees his father's figure shifting in and out of focus above him, the man's lips moving completely out of synch with what he's barely hearing. The figure swiftly moves and something hits him in the stomach again. He starts gagging and tries to curl up to protect himself. He's going to die.

"Useless piece of shit." He's grabbed by the hair again and his father's face appears before his, eyes burning with hatred. "If you want food and rest, you can crawl your ass up to you room like the sorry maggot you are. I'm not helping you."

Illyan is thrown back on the ground, his head banging against the floor. 

"And if you feel like dying, go rot in your corner. No one fucking cares about you."

The footsteps retreat in the dry grass, slow fading of rustling, breathing again, it hurts.  
Everything hurts.

The door to the shack is open.  
He could go. He could go to his room, to his bed, where his father sets down bread and water for him to recover. He doesn't want to die like this, and he wants to get up, but he knows he's not able to.  
He weakly reaches for the outside, but it hurts too much and he lets his hand fall. It lands on the cold dead grass with a soft, quiet thump.  
He can't call out for help. His father is already too far away, and he knows that his voice won't reach the man even if he manages to speak.

His slowly numbing hand rests on the trampled ground just outside of the shack.

His eyes are half-opened, but they don't really see the outside, the far city lights.

The pain is barely present, overcome by darkness. 

A thick, quiet, inky darkness.

He feels like he's fading away.

 

He thinks: _finally_.

 

And then, he stops thinking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin.  
> So I'm not sure, since I'm writing this story and lack complete objectivity, but I'm thinking that reading this chapter is depressing, frustrating and most of all (I hope, because that means I'm doing a good job) heart-wrenching to you. I'm sorry for breaking your heart. I'm also thinking that you are desperately praying for Reg to bring his ass over here and save the day. If that is the case, please, do tell. I would be really happy to read your comments.  
> Thanks for reading, and leave a comment if you feel like it!


	27. Race against Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reg runs to find Lyan.

Reg is alone, sitting upright, cross-legged, on his bed. Thinking.  
Mizzie meows outside the door, as she always does when something is wrong.  
He thinks as he rubs his beard, thinks about Lyan.  
It's been more than a week. He's worried. He hasn't seen Lyan at all, despite roaming the usual alleys and streets of his territory. Just like when Lyan disappeared for three years after they'd met for the first time.  
It really doesn't reassure him knowing Lyan's intention was to go back home. Reg has his sneaking suspicions about Lyan's parents, despite never knowing anything about them.  
A whole week. It's not that unusual, but...  
Reg knows something is wrong. The feeling sits in his gut like a heavy meal he can't digest.  
Sighing, he slowly unfolds his legs and swings them over the edge of the bed.  
His elbows rest on his knees and he rubs his forehead.  
Circling motions.

Then his hands stop moving.

That's it. He's decided.  
He's going back.  
He stands up, opens the door and heads to the entrance, Mizzie hot on his trail. Grabbing his coat and his boots, he suddenly realizes the emptiness of his house. It feels like.... nothing.  
There's nothing.  
He misses Lyan.  
_

Reg trudges along the road, then down the alleyways, finally finding the place where he met Lyan last time.  
A run-down building, filthy surroundings, the dead-end back alley filled with trash.  
Reg still doesn't know exactly where Lyan lives. Right now, he'd give anything to know.  
He can feel something's gone bad, it's worsening as time goes on. He's got this sense of impending doom. Gut feelings don't lie.  
He closes his eyes, concentrating. Breathe in, breathe out.  
_I'm the Tracker. I can do this._  
Then his eyes open, and his surroundings have changed. It's like a switch was flipped and now they're simultaneously different yet the same. The dull walls take on various hues as he feels out the paths snaking their way through and around him.  
Lyan. Where's Lyan's?  
Reg can sense it. It's there, but... Wait. There. Faint, but it's Lyan's defining copper feel. Shit, not good. The trail is stale, Lyan hasn't been here for a while. For days.  
A fact which clearly doesn't feel good to know.

Reg picks up the pace, following the faint tracks.  
He starts running, the feeling of urgency gnawing at his heart.  
_Lyan._ He runs  
_Lyan._ and runs  
_Lyan._ and runs.  
_I hope you're all right._

The path takes a sharp turn in a private property. Reg slows down,and as his feet crush the rust-colored grass he takes in the surroundings.

Reg's gaze roams around as he catches his breath.  
_What is this place...?_  
A house sitting in the middle of the field. Small, shabby shacks scattered all around it. The whole thing so unkept and sinister, even Reg feels uneasy. He's seen a lot of creepy places before, but this one sends chills down his spine in an unusual way.

A sense of dread tickles his guts, almost making him back out.

His worry takes over the uneasiness. There's an abundance of copper tracks everywhere, weaving around randomly, so this is definitely a place the boy often returns to, but Reg's not sure he can say for sure that this is Lyan's home. It's so unsettling...  
Whatever this place is to Lyan, he needs to find him. His skill is useless if he wants to find the boy among this mess. He closes his eyes and breathes out, very slowly. When he opens his eyes again, everything is back to the way it was.

He needs to find Lyan as fast as possible. He can, even without being the Tracker. It's just like hunting.  
Just gotta find Lyan.  
As Reg roams around the house, he can't see anything. Not a single sign of life.  
He circles the house, trying every door and window. Everything's locked. Anxiety creeps up his nape, goosebumps growing all over his skin.  
Lyan...  
_Where are you?_

Reg breathes in and out. _Calm down_. He concentrates.  
Slow breathing. 

In... Out. 

In... Out.

Lyan's not in the house. Reg can feel it.

In... Out.

Lyan's somewhere among the shacks, further from where Reg is standing.  
"Fuck me," swears Reg under his breath. There are so many of those things...

Reg starts checking out the shacks north of the house, furthest away from where he came in. As Reg enters the second shack, he nearly jumps out of his skin at the creaking of the door. Most of them have the door unlocked. He grows increasingly worried and uneasy as he finds traces of blood on grimey ground in many of them. Way too many of them. They all have a foul smell and Reg feels thoroughly creeped out and disgusted by their aspect.  
What.  
The.  
Fuck.

And that's when he notices.  
His eyes snag on a hand lying on the ground, and his heart drops.  
He runs, stumbling, lurching towards the hand. Finally, he falls on his knees next to Lyan. A choked sound lodges itself at the very back of his throat, and he reaches for Lyan's shoulder, stopping himself mere millimeters away from the boy's body.  
"Lyan, wake up," Reg says urgently, his unsure hand hovering over Lyan's unmoving, bloody body. There's no reaction at all.  
Lyan.  
"Lyan!" Reg feels like he's on the verge of losing all control on his emotions. No, he's got to keep it together for the boy's sake.  
Lyan is... hurt. It's undescribable. His eyes.... His eyes... Reg can't help the desperate sound that escapes his lips. Lyan's eyes are open, but... They don't see anything. The side of his face is completely scraped, blood dripping from the matted mess of his hair.

Reg picks Lyan's upper body off the ground, cradling him against his chest without heeding the blood smears that it leaves on his own clothes, calling out to him.  
"Lyan, hey buddy, look at me. Please, Lyan, look, please."  
Lyan's skin. His whole body feels cold. How long, how long has he been out here? Is he even...  
Cold dread washes over the man when the thought crosses his mind. No. He can't. He can't be.

Reg watches Lyan's lips attentively, and sees little clouds of mist swirling above them in weak, uneven bursts. He's still breathing.  
Reg doesn't allow himself to feel relief just yet and pulls out his phone hurriedly, calling Jin.  
When the line picks up on the other side, Reg shouts in the phone: "Jin?"  
"What? What's happening? What's wrong, Reg?" Jin instantly sounds alarmed by the desperate tone of Reg's voice.  
Reg draws in a shaky breath. "Jin, you gotta help me. I found Lyan. You have to come get us. He's in really bad shape, you gotta help him. I think..." Reg's voice cracks, his eyes tracing the dark bags under Lyan's glazed eyes, the unhealthy palor of his ice-cold skin, the stillness of... Of everything. "Jin, I don't know if he's gonna make it."  
"Merde." He hears Jin moving stuff on his side of the call, then a jingle. "I'm coming. Where are you?"  
Reg takes off his coat, lowering it over the boy's prone shape. "In a field, there's a house with lots of shacks around it."  
"Wait up." More shuffling. Typing. Clicking. Seconds tick by. "Yeah, okay, gotcha. I know where that is. I'm coming." Jin hangs up, and so does Reg. He gathers Lyan in his arms and easily stands up, the boy not nearly heavy enough to make it a difficult task.

As he walks out of the field, holding Lyan close, he feels a very small tremor in his arms. His eyes immediately find Lyan's, whose eyes have opened a little bit wider. The green eyes hold onto Reg's, desperately, like a drowning man clinging on a rock, and the cracked, bloody, dry lips move shakily, trying to form words.  
Reg can feel his eyes getting damper then he'd like. "Lyan, hush, don't work yourself up. It's okay, it's me, I've got you." Lyan's stare is veiled, and Reg's not sure his words are getting to him. "It's not a dream, I promise."  
Lyan's lips stop moving, and although his stare remains fixed on the man's face, his weary eyes soon loose their focus. When Reg realizes that Lyan's half-opened eyes aren't really watching him anymore, he's left more frightened than he's ever been before.  
He walks down the road for a few minutes before a car comes screeching to a halt next to him.

Reg opens the door to the back seat and carefully lowers the boy across the back of the car. Jin twists around in the driver's seat to catch a glance of the boy's state, and he swears when he sees Lyan's bloody face and empty eyes. " _Oh merde_."  
Reg doesn't say anything, his face grim as he slides in the backseat in turn and closes the door on them both.  
" _Oh putain de bordel de merde, c'est pas possible_ ," continues Jin, more to himself than to anybody else as he revs up the engine while reaching out for his phone at the same time, in the language Reg doesn't understand but catches the gist of. Reg doesn't look at him, too busy being careful not to jostle Lyan around too much, and he doesn't listen to what Jin is saying either.  
The wheels on Jin's car scream their way back on the road and Reg cradles the boy's head in his arms, gently stroking his hair and telling Lyan he'll be all right, even if the boy isn't listening to him. Jin whips out his phone and punches in a number, one hand steering the wheel as he brings the phone to his ear, his mouth set in an unhappy line, and when someone picks up the other end of the line he starts barking orders. "Get a room ready. Yes, right now. This is an emergency. I don't care. Oh for fuck's sake- _putain_ , I don't _fucking_ care! DO IT. NOW!"  
Jin throws the phone back in its place, swearing a string of cuss words, and the car barrels down the streets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin.  
> The long-awaited chapter is here! Reg finally did what we all wanted him to do: find Lyan at his worst and bring him back! But there's no telling how badly off Lyan really is... Oh, and Jin is really pissed.  
> Thanks for reading, tell me what you think!


	28. Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jin is quick to assess and deal with Lyan's state, but something goes wrong when he tells Reg about it.

Reg doesn't know how exactly everything goes down, but one moment he's gathering Lyan's thin, curled-up body in his arms and exiting the car, and the very next he's waiting in a familiar white corridor, sitting alone on one of the few chairs lying along the walls, clothes covered in blood. He can still feel the unnervingly light body in his arms from moments ago.  
He doesn't remember walking through the door of Jin's sick bay. He doesn't remember anyone taking Lyan off his hands. He doesn't even remember sitting down on this plastic seat. All he knows is that there's one, lone image stuck in his head, and it's that of Lyan's bloody face and vacant eyes: eyes on the brink of death, desperately hollow and dull, eyes that have tired and given up hanging onto life.

He doesn't want to imagine what horrors Lyan must have gone through to make him lose the will to survive. He seems like a strong enough kid, but Reg doesn't really know anything about him, so he can't be sure about even that assumption.  
The thought of Lyan dying suddenly makes his stomach drop for the hundredth time this evening. He doesn't know why he's so scared of it, he's seen many people die before, but somehow the thought of losing this particular boy is unbearable. Reg doesn't know why Lyan is so important to him, and as much as he's tried to understand the reason behind his feelings, there seems to be no explanation for it. It's simply a gut feeling that he can't shake: he can't lose Lyan. Now that he's found Lyan and lived with him and gotten to know him, even if it's only slightly, he can't let their relationship disappear. He needs this link in his life.

Sitting in the hallway right outside the room where both Jin and Lyan disappeared, Reg squeezes his fist with the other hand, his grip so strong that his knucles crack. He doesn't notice. The worry of losing Lyan is eating away at his insides and he feels like he might be going insane. There's nothing he can do about this, nothing he can do to help, and if Lyan dies...  
Reg tries to control himself by distracting his thoughts from the present. When he does this, he usually has three choices: think about Mizzie, think about the list of chores and groceries he needs to do, and think about the rifle he usually keeps in one of the lockers of Jin's place of work. He decides to go with the rifle this time, notably because he can't force himself to think about anything that doesn't concern death, and represents it to himself in a three-dimensional mind's eye. He mentally disassembles his rifle and reassembles it, his elbows resting on his knees as he gazes emptily at the ground. 

Then he suddenly realizes he can hear footsteps, and Reg's head jerks up at the sound of an opening door. Jin appears in the hall, a long, white coat falling neatly from his shoulders, his eyes grim and serious.

Reg frowns and asks: "How is he?"  
Jin sighs. "Not that good, I think you can tell." He makes his way next to Reg and drops on the adjacent chair. "He... got really messed up in there. I don't know if you want me to tell you the details. I have to go back in there soon, I can't leave them unsupervised for too long."

Jin glances sideways, checking his friend's expression. Reg's face is stony, his fist tightly pressed against his lips, and he doesn't give any sign of refusal. So Jin continues.

"Look, I know you really have a thing for that kid, so I've got to make sure you won't do anything stupid after I tell you how bad this is. I think you should know everything about what happened to him, because even though I'm not into mental health all that much, I know he'll need to talk to someone about this at one moment and that you'll be the one to listen to him when that time comes. However, you need to do one thing, and that's to promise me you won't go off to hunt the perpetrator down. Got that?" 

Reg doesn't speak, but he nods curtly. 

Jin starts listing everything that is wrong with the boy lying in the room beyond them.  
"Where do I start... First off, he was very dehydrated and malnourished, so he's on an IV drip for now and I'll add supplements as soon as his body can handle it. The kid was starved. Judging from what I've seen, he could've had a close brush with death even without his injuries. He's a solid kid, I have to hand it to him," admits the Asian man. 

Reg doesn't say anything, waiting for Jin to continue.

"About his wounds... He's got some fractured ribs and a very bruised stomach, I mean it's _really_ bad there, so even if we want him to eat he's not going to be taking solid food any time soon. Seems he sustained a lot of blows to the head too, but nothing broke. I know it looked like he bled a lot, but it usually does that with head injuries, you know. He's got a concussion, that's for sure, but of course given the state of things, I haven't been able to judge how much it influences his mental capacities. His motor reflexes are all there as far as I can see, and there was internal bleeding, but nothing I couldn't handle. Anyway, his face will look bad when you go in there, bandages always make things seem worse than they really are, you know."

He pauses, letting Reg take in all the information. The other man still hasn't said a word.

"It's nothing I can't treat, but he sustained pretty heavy injuries. We're lucky he wasn't lethally injured, they narrowly avoided the kidney area. He's sick, too, and I think that it was made worse by the state he was in. He's got a pretty high fever... There are a lot of things I can't say until he wakes up, but generally speaking, it's probably going to take some time before he heals completely, and I'm only talking physical here. I don't even know when he's going to wake up."

Jin stops for a bit. Reg hasn't said a word and he doesn't like it, especially since he hasn't told the man everything yet. The man is still, his eyes fixated on his open hands, and he's not moving. Jin hesitates. He's not sure he should say the last things on his mind. He feels it might be a bad idea, but on the flip side, he also feels like he shouldn't hide anything from Reg.  
"Reg... He was tortured. I don't know if you saw it when you picked him up, but he was strangled at some point. There are pretty heavy bruises around his neck. And there are lacerations across his chest." Jin rubs his face with one hand, sighing. "And there's something else. I think he got drugged. I found several needle marks in his neck and in the folds of his elbows, and I'm afraid- "

Reg makes a weird noise. 

Jin shoots him an inquisitive glance and ventures out: "Reg-"  
The Asian man is interrupted by the low rumbling of his friend's voice. At first, he can't make out what Reg is saying, so Jin leans closer to the man, and then apprehension washes over him when he finally understands what he's muttering.  
"I'll kill him. I'll kill him. I'll kill him."  
Jin straightens and studies the man's tense position, the way he's staring at his own shaking hands with a blank face and repeating the same thing over and over again. He cautiously waves in front of his face to take Reg's attention away from his hands. "Hey, Reg? Are you still with me?"  
The man doesn't react, but his voice gets louder and his shoulders stiffen as he hunches over, still muttering under his breath.  
"I'll kill him, Alia, don't worry. I'll kill him. I'll kill him, I'll kill him, just don't... Don't... I'll kill him."

Jin frowns. _Alia?_ That's a name Reg has never spoken before. 

However, as interesting as this developement may be, there's no time for it. He can't stay with Reg too long, the kid needs more treatment and the quick details about Lyan's state he wanted to tell Reg weren't supposed to cause the man a freak-out.  
Jin discreetly pulls a syringe out of his pocket, his movement smooth and precise as he preps it up. He rapidly checks if Reg is about to move, but the man is still sitting and mumbling under his breath. The medic stands up and swiftly plants the syringe in the man's neck, who doesn't even react to the sting. Reg sits exactly where he is, completely frozen in his trance-like state, until the sedative takes action and he slumps forward without a sound, the incessant flow of his words coming to a halt. Jin stares at him, sighs, pulls his friend's arm over his shoulder and starts carrying him to the next room. He knows he's being a bit too heavy-handed with the sedatives but it's more efficient than a jab to the head, and right now, he can't deal with Reg. Although this might be the breakthrough they've both been waiting for, Lyan is top priority.

As soon as he's done dumping the older man on the room's solitary bed, he swiftly steps out and shuts the door behind him while looking around. He calls out to one of his staff and asks the woman to watch after the unexpected patient, and then returns to more pressing matters, notably the injured 17-year-old boy who's just had a brush with death and needs a lot more care than any of the people present in this place.  
_

During the five hours it takes him to resurface, Reg dreams.  
Of course, he forgets all about it when he wakes up, as does anyone who thinks they had an undisturbed sleep. He doesn't know what he dreamt about, nor about the huge amount of work his subconscious had to power through while he was asleep. He knows least of all that his memories, the ones he thought long gone and never to be recovered, are floating up slowly from the depths of his mind and are about to break out.  
No, he doesn't know about that. All that he knows is that something different happened to him, and that somehow that something caused him to jump from time and space from talking to Jin in a white hallway to lying in a very uncomfortable position on this bed.

Reg rises from the bed and makes a face when he feels a muscle in his neck painfully tug at his shoulder. How long was he sleeping in that position?  
He can feel three, four kinks in his body. Five. Maybe six.  
He slowly stands up and stretches, trying to remember what happened. Jin was telling him about-  
_Lyan. Fuck._  
The broken bones. The bruises. The blood.

He swiftly throws himself off the bed to rush out of the room and immediately falls upon a woman dressed in white pants and a white tee-shirt with tan skin and prettily slanted eyes. She steps in front of him and extends an arm to prevent him from getting out of the room.  
"Mister Tracker?" she asks with a concerned expression. It seems she doesn't know his name.  
"Uh... yes, that's me," he answers in confusion.  
"I'm sorry, I can't let you leave right away. Jin's orders. He wants to make sure you're okay before you get out."  
Reg steps back in surrender. "I understand."  
"Good. Thank you," she smiles gratefully. "I just need to check some things."  
"What happened?" he asks as she shines a light in his eyes.  
"What do you remember?" she counters.  
"I was talking with Jin about Lyan, the patient that just came in earlier, you know, the boy, and he was telling me about..." Reg searches for the words Jin was telling him, and when he remembers, he pales. The woman gives him a small, encouraging nod, undisturbed by his faltering.  
"Go on."  
"About... the..." He swallows, and gets back on track. "The torture. He said something about torture."  
"And then?"  
"And then..." Reg trails off.  
"You don't remember," states the woman.  
"No," he admits.  
"All right. It's not surprising, according to Jin. He thought something like that would happen." She lets go of his head and gestures towards the hallway. "This way."  
Reg follows the direction her hand is showing him and steps out of the room. She closes the door behind him and adds: "You know where to find him, but I'm going to accompany you. I have to make sure you don't go see the boy."  
"Jin's orders?"  
"Jin's orders."  
"Did he give you a reason?"  
"Jin doesn't give reasons. I'm sure you knew that already."  
Reg nods and starts walking towards Jin's office, where he knows his friend is waiting for him. The woman follows him.

As soon as they reach the office and Reg opens the door, the woman leaves him alone with Jin. He doesn't have the time to put one foot in the office that the young man is already speaking.  
"Good, you're awake. Sit down. So basically, we want to know how long Lyan was stuck in that shed." Jin holds up a piece of paper as Reg does as he is told.  
"I've done my homework. In extreme cases, a young, healthy person-" Reg takes the piece of paper Jin hands him while his friend adds, "and yeah, Lyan wasn't particularly healthy for starters," before leaning back against his desk, "-will hold on without liquid for about three to four days. Sometimes up to eleven or twelve days, if their body is really resistant."  
Reg looks up from the paper and prompts him to continue. "And?"  
"And then there's the malnutrition. You know Lyan is pretty thin for his build, right?" 

Reg nods. 

"Well, it means he doesn't have a lot of fat in his body. Less than a normal person, at any rate. Which makes him more sensitive to starvation. I won't get too much into details because you probably don't need them, but basically, if we assume Lyan went without food or water during his confinement, I'd say he was there for around three, maybe four days. Without falling sick, his body could've fought off the effects of starvation longer, but with his injuries and general bad health he didn't stand a chance."

Reg sighs wearily and leans back, his hand sifting through his hair. On top of all of that, he knows something Jin hasn't mentioned: Lyan was forced to spend those days in horribly filthy conditions. Somehow, he feels a mixed sense of anger, uneasiness, sadness, and relief, in a way he's not sure of and can't explain. He was able to find Lyan in time, yes; he undoubtedly knows the kid wouldn't have made it had Reg waited just another few hours, had he hesitated just another day. But Lyan should never have ended up like this in the first place.  
"Fuck... I know I've gone without much food for several days before, but... Not like that, not that hurt."

They both stay silent, pondering. Who could be responsible for all of this? And why did it happen?

Reg's hand drops to his lap as he curses, frustrated. "Son of a bitch. If I'd known this would happen, I never would've let him go back."  
"It's not on you." Jin stands up. "We'll have to ask Lyan what happened. If he wants to tell us, that is." Reg quizzically lifts his eyebrows, and Jin answers his unspoken question. "Reg, you know how he is. He probably won't want to tell us. I know I wouldn't."  
"But why?"  
"Some people prefer keeping their lives to themselves. Lyan is one of those people."  
Reg frowns. "But we've gotten involved so far, I think we-"  
"Reg." Jin cuts in. "You have to accept that helping someone doesn't mean you're entitled to know each and every problem they have. If someone tried to pry into my problems, they'd end up regretting it." His voice softens. "Do you really want to force Lyan to speak about things he doesn't want to talk about?"  
Reg looks at the paper in his hand, feeling a bit ashamed. He knows Jin is right. It's just that he's worried about Lyan.

"Don't make that face. You look like a kicked dog out on a dirty sidewalk on a rainy day when you make that face."  
Reg lifts his eyes back to Jin without answering.  
The young man continues. "We're going to talk more about Lyan in a minute, but how are you feeling?"  
Reg takes a second to consider the question and says: "I don't know."  
"What happened back there?"  
"I though you'd be the one to tell me."  
"Oh." Jin leans back. "Of course, you don't remember."  
"No."  
"I had to inject some sedatives to knock you out. Are you okay now?"  
"I should be. I think I am."  
"Okay." Jin looks to the side for a while. "We'll talk about it later. Lyan's health is our first concern right now."  
"I agree."  
"I know you agree. I was waiting for you to wake up so we could go check on him together."

Reg looks weary. "You think I should see him?"  
Jin looks him in the eye, unwavering as always. "Yes. I can't be the only one out of both of us to know how bad it is. It's clear you're important to each other, and I think you should know what kind of danger he was in. Hearing is not even close to seeing in this kind of situation, the description I gave you isn't nearly enough. Besides, you should help with the care we give him. He might stay here a very long time, and I won't always be there to look after him. And my staff can only do so much."  
"But I will," states Reg, the way one states the obvious.  
Jin smiles. "Precisely."  
"I understand."  
"It might be difficult for you."  
"I know, but he needs someone to watch over him."  
"As long as you know what you're getting into."

Reg gives his friend a grim look. "I think I knew what I was getting into the day I brought him back home. I just didn't know it was going to be this bad."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin.  
> How would you react if you were in Jin's shoes? Lyan's out, Reg is too, and Jin has no idea why any of this shit is happening. By the way, I'm sorry if any of the steps of patient management mentioned here is completely wrong, I don't work in a hospital so I have no idea how it usually goes down. Feel free to correct me if it really sounds stupid.  
> Thanks for reading, leave a comment if you feel like it!


	29. Hospital Scrubs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jin has Reg help him take care of Lyan.

They leave the office and Jin leads the way to his patient's room. Reg follows him inside and softly closes the door behind him, acting as cautious of noise as he does around Mizzie when she sleeps. He knows noise isn't enough to wake up Lyan, but he feels like being as silent as possible will help make the boy's recovery a bit easier. 

The boy is sleeping under the white bedsheets, an oxygen mask covering his face. The entire left side of his head and his neck are covered in clean bandages, just like his left hand and wrist. His arms are mottled in shades of blue and covered in stupe and plaster. Reg can only see his right eye because of the way his face is partly hidden, but it's obvious that there are deep bags under his eyes. His pale skin is covered in a thin sheen of sweat and his body is deathly still.  
Reg silently stands next to Lyan while Jin steps around the bed to tinker with the machines and check the boy's vitals, and the thought strikes him how small and vulnerable Lyan looks in this kind of environment.  
Lyan. The mysterious boy with way too much issues. The boy Reg cares for, a lot.  
The boy he almost lost just a few hours ago because of some psychopath.

Jin steps away from the machine and pulls on clean latex gloves, then hands a bigger pair to Reg. The man takes them and Jin turns around to bend over Lyan, pulling one of his eyes open and shining a light on the green iris. Reg follows his movements closely as he tugs the gloves over his hands.  
"Didn't you check his eyes already?"  
"Yeah, but once isn't enough. I'm just making sure." Jin pulls open the other eye.  
"Making sure of what?"  
"Making sure his brain's really alright." He straightens and pushes the small flashlight back into his breast pocket.  
"Do you need any help with anything?"  
Jin looks up and nods, reaching for the tray next to him. "Undress him. I need to check some things still."  
The man pales. "Are you sure-"  
Jin interrupts him and looks him dead in the eye. "Look, Reg, don't be a wuss. I know you have your qualms about undressing Lyan when he's not conscious, but this isn't about that. So either you help me, either you don't. He's getting undressed either way."  
Reg remains silent for a while, and then says: "...All right."  
Jin rummages through the tray some more and curses. "Shit, they forgot..." He briskly straightens and whisks out of the room without a word or explanation, and Reg is left alone with the boy in the white room.  
He stares at Lyan's sleeping face, and shakes his head. Jin's right. He shouldn't be so half-assed about looking after Lyan.  
He bends over the boy's small shape and starts undoing the hospital scrubs, gently pulling them away despite knowing Lyan won't wake up any time soon. When he removes the blue fabric, revealing the boy's naked body, Reg's breath stutters.  
He didn't imagine it to be this bad.

The boy's sharp ribs are poking out from under his bruised skin, and his stomach is so flat it seems like setting a twig there would be enough to snap him in two. His skin is an ugly mess of dark colors, with four pink welts drawn across his chest, and Reg can almost feel physical pain as he watches Lyan's damaged skin stretch in rythm with his breathing. The man's gaze flies back to the boy's face, and now it's easy to imagine how sallow his cheeks must be under the white bandages.  
Reg stands there, so shocked his face can't register any kind of expression, and then he lowers his head, guilt invading his mind. If only he'd known... If only he had...

Jin walks in and his steps falter when he sees his friend's posture. He studies the man's back for a moment, wondering if Reg is having another episode or is still with them in the room. He soon notices that the man's shoulders are moving irregularly and not hunched in a frozen state like earlier, so he draws closer cautiously.  
Reg has his face hidden behind his arm and his breathing seems laboured.  
Jin takes another step closer. "Reg...?"  
"He could've died," whispers the man in a trembling voice.  
Jin's head turns to the boy and he doesn't answer. He remembers the state in which he found the boy earlier.

Even he, who prides himself in being a jaded and uncaring prick, who handles wounded and dead bodies alike the way a butcher handles meat, finds Lyan's state to be bad enough to be treated with care. Of course it happens to encounter hunger and thirst and sickness. It happens to find injured people. It happens to find individuals who were drugged against their will, and/or beaten to a pulp.

They live in a shithole, so it's never a big surprise.

But in his short yet eventful career, Jin has rarely seen bodies damaged in so many different ways.  
He knows that the fresh lacerations are the result of a whipping, and that the old scars were probably caused by the metal end of a belt. The strangling seems to be the result of some kind of rope, but there are also shapes wrapped around the boy's neck that look like handprints. The burn marks across his shoulders and back alternate between the ugly circular scabs that are specific to cigarettes and the pairs of red dots usually associated with some models of tasers. The bruises and cracked bones, of course, are the product of physical abuse. Those on the back of his thighs are in the shape of thick lines, as if he was beaten with a rod of some kind - probably metal or solid wood.  
Despite viewing all wounds in a similarly objective manner, Jin has always had some difficulty getting used to seeing younger individuals being treated with this level of indifference. When he undressed Lyan earlier to see how far the injuries went, he saw things he didn't expect.   
What he expected were broken bones, blood, cuts and bruises and bumps, because he'd easily guessed about the abuse; but he didn't think he'd see starvation to such an extent, skin scraped raw across the face, traces of choking and burns, injection sites, semen and urine on the boy's body. He rapidly checked for the instant hypothesis that sprung to his mind, but it turned out the boy hadn't been raped. He felt some relief at that, a relief which wasn't that unexpected. He's come to terms with somewhat caring about Lyan. He knows he only cares for the kid because Reg does.

Jin returns to fiddling with the supplies on the tray, and as he hands Reg a thin tube of cream, he tells himself he's not scared of Lyan dying. He's scared that Reg might lose it if Lyan disappears.  
"Take this," he tells Reg. "And stop fucking crying. You know I hate that."  
The older man presses his sleeved arm harder against his eyes and says in a muffled voice: "Yeah, sorry, I know. It's just..."  
"You've seen worse, just because it's him doesn't mean you have to break down like that. It's pathetic."  
"... I know." Reg takes a deep breath and finally straightens, taking his arm away from his face to reach for the tube. Jin is relieved to see that his eyes are just a bit humid and most importantly, neither red nor puffy. He almost feels a shudder of disgust travel down his spine at the thought of such eyes. Reg takes the object in his own hand and stares at his friend. "Just tell me what we're doing and ignore what just happened."  
"Gladly. I did my best for the worst parts on his body, but then... Well, let's say I was distracted, and I left some things on hold when I thought he was stable enough. I can see the face you're making, and no, he wasn't in any danger when I left him. Besides, one of my staff stayed with him, but you were all over Lyan when you came in the room and didn't even see him leave. I know what I'm doing, okay?"  
Reg looks down sheepishly. "Okay, okay."  
"I treated all his major injuries as soon as I could, and most of the minor ones as well. I didn't leave anything up to chance concerning his head, torso and lower region, but we only cleaned and disinfected the wounds on his legs. The cream is for the bruises, make sure to rub it in good, and leave the cuts to me. Be careful not to put any cream in his cuts, though, it just makes healing more complicated for those."  
Jin doesn't hear any kind of agreement from his friend, so he looks up. Reg is staring at him with a disturbingly eerie expression, and Jin feels vaguely uneasy.  
"When you say his lower region..." says Reg slowly.  
Jin immediately understands how the man could have interpreted his words. "No, Reg, he wasn't raped." The strange atmosphere is instantly lifted and his friend closes his eyes in evident relief. "His genitals are pretty bruised, though, like his stomach. He was probably punched or kicked there."  
"Shit," growls Reg. "If I catch the asshole who did this..."  
"Just do your fucking job, Reg, and shut up. He doesn't need you running your mouth, he needs you taking care of him. Either you do things right or I kick you out of here myself and get the nurse to come back in."  
Jin may be two thirds of Reg's height and a little over half his weight, the bearded man has no doubt he will effectively find a way to haul his ass out of the room if he wants to, so he shuts up and opens the tube of cream.

At first, Reg doesn't dare press his hands too hard against the boy's bruises. He's afraid he might cause Lyan pain, even if he's unconscious, and he almost feels pained himself just by watching his own fingers rub the ointment into the blue and yellow mottled skin. Jin keeps sighing when he sees this, until he can't stand anymore and places his hand over Reg's to force him to apply more pressure. Reg winces, but the boy doesn't even twitch; Jin gives him a mocking smile, the kind he wears when he feels like he just showed someone that he knows better. He often smiles like that, because he always knows better. Sometimes Reg feels like he's got the knowledge of a newborn puppy compared to Jin.  
Jin lets go of Reg's hand and the older man continues applying the cream with the same pressure. He tries not to pay attention to the fact that the heavily bruised areas on Lyan's legs are mostly positioned on the inside and back of his thighs. He tries to think of something other than how those bruises could have appeared. He tries not to imagine Lyan getting hit over and over again, tries to control the raging anger within him. He tries not to let it show.

Meanwhile, Jin tends to the cuts littering Lyan's knees and shins. They're not too bad, and on a patient that's simply been wounded he wouldn't even pay attention to them: but Lyan's state being what it is, he's not leaving anything unsupervised. He's not sure how good Lyan's immune system is, and even less how well it's going to handle so many injuries without the proper nutrition and health, but he does know that even small cuts like these can be risky if they're not treated, in this case.  
At one moment, Jin looks up from his work to glance at Reg. His friend is glaring coldly at his own hands as they massage the cream into Lyan's bruises, and it's the look he has when they're about to hunt someone down. Jin looks back at what he's doing and internally sighs: he'll have to watch out. With the way things are, Reg could very well decide to go on a hunt all by himself without giving him so much as a sign that's he's doing so.

It takes less than an hour to finish tending to Lyan's legs, where the damage is least important. When they're done, Jin takes the white tube from Reg's extended hand and throws it in a plastic container on the rolling tray. It lands with a clink among stained scalpel blades, empty tubes, needles, syringes and small scraps of reddened metal.  
"You can take off the gloves," he informs the man.  
"Are we done?"  
"Yes. There's nothing else we can do that requires touching his body," says Jin as he pulls Lyan's scrubs back together. The hideously damaged skin disappears behind the hospital blue of the light outfit, and he ties the small strings back into knots. "I already did what was necessary for his back."  
Reg gazes at the boy's prone figure. "Did he have new burn marks?"  
Jin looks up. He didn't think Reg knew about that. Although his friend's face seems calm, he can see his fists are clenched. He looks back down at the knot he's tying and answers: "Yes."  
"And what about the needle tracks? Do you know what drugs he was given?"  
"I'm still waiting on the results. I'm not getting them today or tomorrow, judging by the abundance of marks on his body." Jin flattens the creases next to the knot and straightens, peeling off his gloves. "By the way, Reg, I might be repeating myself, but you can take off the gloves."  
Reg doesn't answer, but his fists unclench and he lifts up his arms to remove them. Both pairs, one tinged with pink and the other slick with cream, end up in the trash bag that's hanging from the rolling tray.

Then Jin hands Reg a small black box.  
"Take it. It's what I use to communicate with the staff across the bay."  
Reg takes hold of it and studies it closely. He notices buttons, a small grid where the sound must come from, and a line along the bottom which probably serves as the microphone.  
"Does it work like a radio?"  
"Yeah. That way if something comes up while you're watching over him, you can warn me on the first channel. Just say the room number and I'll be there."  
Reg nods and closes his hand around it, suddenly realizing that he's about to spend a long time here.  
"How long until he wakes up?" he asks.  
"I'm not sure. Right now there's no real way of knowing."

Reg's head swivels to the side, his grey eyes resting upon Lyan's white face. After a small moment of silence, Jin speaks up again.  
"I'll leave you to it, then. I've got other people that need me."  
"...Yeah. Okay," answers Reg, unable to tear his eyes away from the boy.

Jin turns around to leave, and when he steps out of the room he signals one of his staff to stay nearby. Reg looks fine, and the kid isn't in critical condition anymore, but he prefers caution over trust. There's no way of knowing when something might go wrong.  
The orderly stops in front of him and Jin tells her: "Notify me if the big guy starts acting strange. I don't care if you're unsure about it, if anything strikes you as even remotely odd I want you to inform me right away."  
"Yes sir," answers the woman.  
"Don't try anything on your own, no matter what happens. He could be dangerous if he's not in his normal state."  
She nods and once Jin is sure he's made his point, he spins around and heads towards another room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin.  
> An update, finally! I'm sorry for being so late, I've had sooo many problems this month, what with having plumbing problems, electricity problems, keyhole problems, flooding problems, money problems, work problems, friend problems, all the bad stuff! I swear, I must have bad karma or something. Everything just keeps coming down on me and I can't catch a break.  
> Next update will undoubtedly be really late because I haven't even remotely written the big ideas down yet.  
> I hope you liked this chapter despite the lateness, anyway. I felt a bit bad for Reg when he realized just how seriously Lyan got hurt. And "better safe than sorry" is Jin's go-to motto right now (usually it's "fuck shit up first, ask questions later", but still, he's naturally cautious).  
> Thanks for reading, leave a comment if you feel like it!


	30. Guardian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reg keeps watch over Lyan and briefly reminisces about past times, doubting the safety of remembering.

Reg spends the afternoon in the seat next to Lyan's bed, alternating between gazing at the boy and staring expectantly at the small black radio in his hands. He doesn't know what he's waiting for. He knows it's no use hoping to get the drug testing results back in the following hours.

The radio isn't exactly a standard issue. It makes sounds like one and people have to speak one at a time to communicate, but it's very small, very light and there are only three channels. The second frequency seems to be restrained to the sick bay, as Reg soon notices when he hears various staff members speak through this frequency to communicate with each other. He spends about ten minutes listening to their voices, then tries the third channel. It's completely silent, and he doesn't hear anything for a while, so he ends up pushing the button to return to the first channel and lowers the radio in his lap. 

He watches the slow rise and fall of Lyan's chest under the white bedsheets and wonders what will become of them. If Lyan isn't safe where he lives, Reg is more than willing to shelter him for good, but he has the feeling it won't be so easy to convince the boy. What with the curfew, his strange behaviour whenever they talk about it, and the fact that he never stays to sleep, Lyan going back home every evening seems to be something mandatory. It should be a normal thing if his parents were protective of him, but with how unhealthy he is and the scars on his back, Reg has a feeling that it can't be the case. The injuries Lyan is systematically sporting and the dirtiness of his clothes makes it look like he could be the type to spend a lot of time outdoors and often get into fights, which wouldn't surprise Reg considering the mouth he has on him, and that's what he'd hoped to merely be the case until now.

Now... Given the fact that Reg found him half-dead in a place that was presumably his home, the doubts he's been harbouring about Lyan's parents have become near-certainty. He's pretty sure most of the boy's injuries, old and new, are their doing, if not all of his injuries. And it makes him queasy and angry to think that Lyan has been going back there every night.

Why is that? Why didn't Lyan say anything about it when Reg tried so hard to make him understand that he could help? Why did he go back, and not run away?  
Reg noticed the boy's resigned and unhappy emotions whenever he had to leave, of course. They were stronger than if Lyan had simply disliked leaving. He'd even been scared when the incident with the flour had happened, though Reg still couldn't make any sense of it.  
So why didn't he tell Reg what was wrong?  
Why didn't he seek help?

Reg has to take a deep breath to quell his frustration. He resents the fact that Lyan doesn't trust him enough to help, but now isn't the time to blame him for it. They'll talk about it once the boy wakes up. For now, it's no use getting angry all on his own.

Lyan's behaviour isn't the only thing troubling Reg. The aches in his body from sleeping in a bad position remind him of his own actions, and he has the sentiment that what happened earlier is nothing to ignore, if the fact that Jin knocked him out means anything. Even if the young man preferred to sweep it under the rug earlier, Reg knows they'll have to come back to it at some point.  
Jin didn't apologize for sticking a needle in his neck, but he probably didn't enjoy doing it either. Last time he had to knock Reg unconscious, Reg was in a seriously bad place, and although they have some clear memories of what transpired at the time, they don't talk about it very much. Not only does Reg dislike remembering how it felt to be a raving madman, but Jin doesn't like to admit that he experimented on someone who is now the closest thing he has to a friend. Despite his flippant personality, the mere fact that Jin doesn't mention it if he can avoid it is a pretty clear indicator that he actually does care about what happened.

Reg hopes that his failing memories won't be harmful to anyone. Whenever he thinks about it, he has a slimy feeling in his gut that he tries to suppress as fast as he can, but it still feels like a parasite is latched somewhere in his body, feeding him dark thoughts and unstable feelings that might set him off at any moment. It's actually comforting to know that Jin is capable of neutralizing him at a moment's notice, no matter what happens. Reg knows what he's capable of, and the times when he loses control aren't a pretty sight; but at least he knows where he is and what he's doing.  
If he starts blacking out while losing control, there's no saying what could happen.

Reg shifts in his seat and feels an ache at the bottom of his spine that tells him he's been sitting that way for a while now.

He wants to regain his memories, but he also feels like the process of it might be long and dangerous, and he's not sure it's worth it putting others in harm's way just so that he can remember who he was. It's not that he needs to remember, either; he's been living just fine being who he is now, even without his memories, even with a defective brain. He has a roof over his head, and food to eat, and a friend, and a job, and even a very lovable furry roomate. And now there's also Lyan.  
If getting his past self back puts all of it in jeopardy, then he doesn't really want to do it.

The radio in his lap suddenly buzzes to life and Jin's static voice emanates from the small black box.  
"Staff told me you haven't left the room even once. If nothing's happening now then nothing's going to happen for the rest of the evening. You better go feed Mizzie, it's getting late. You can come back to watch him overnight, but don't expect us to bring you a bed. That seat in his bedroom is the closest thing we have to a couch. Over."  
Reg lifts it to his mouth and answers: "Got it. I don't mind. Do I leave the radio here? Over."  
"Yeah. See you later. Over."

He stands up and stretches, grabs his coat and heads to the door. When he steps out, he sees one of Jin's staff happens to be standing next to the door. Reg stops in front of her, and the woman looks up from her clipboard.  
"Can I help you?" she asks politely.  
He hands her the radio. "Jin told me to leave this here, so I thought I'd give it to you. I don't really know where I'm supposed to leave it."  
She takes it and smiles at him. "That won't be a problem. Are you leaving?"  
Reg shrugs on his coat. "Yes."  
"Then I will escort you to the exit," she replies, clipping her pen to the board.

They walk down several white corridors and she shows him a metal door. "Here we are. Have a safe trip."  
"Thank you," Reg nods, before pushing the door open.  
A cold gust of wind greets him when he steps outside. He takes a moment to adjust the zipper of his coat, and then starts heading back home.

Night has fallen by the time he reaches his house and Mizzie is waiting at the door when it opens. Reg smiles at her, takes a few steps inside so that the door closes behind him, and crouches down to pet her. The cat happily rubs her head against his calves for several minutes straight, then she sits back and he pulls off his shoes on the side.  
Her pale green eyes follow his movements, and she gets up to trail behind him when he goes to the kitchen.

"I can't stay very long," says Reg as he gets her food. "Something came up with Lyan. I might not be home for a while."  
Mizzie is sitting next to him, and she doesn't answer. She simply looks up at him.  
"Don't worry, I'll still come to feed you," he chuckles. "But you might be alone more than usual, and I wanted to tell you. Is that all right?"  
The cat flicks her right ear and turns around to wait at her bowl.  
Reg sighs and walks over. "I just hope he'll be okay. I mean, he's tough, right? For a guy his age."  
Mizzie nudges the bowl with her nose to tell him to hurry up, so he pours the cat food. She starts eating as soon as the first piece hits the bowl.  
"You're too hungry to care, anyway. Sorry I made you wait."  
He walks back to the cupboard and puts the box away, then leans against the counter. He was about to forget, but he should probably get something to eat too.

He throws together an approximate sandwich with what remains he can find in his fridge - he was supposed to go buy food today, but there was a change of plans - and goes to pat Mizzie's head one more time before putting his coat and shoes back on and leaving the house again. 

He trudges through the streets for another fourty minutes, once again feeling grateful for the fact that Jin chose Reg's house to be at a relatively close distance by foot. Of course, it would be faster to make the trip with a car, but Reg's fine without one, even if he understands why Jin finds it so useful.

He finds the same door to the sick bay that he used earlier hidden behind yellow and white graffiti. The sick bay is well hidden at the heart of its derelict surroundings, the dirty, vandalized exterior mingling with the rest of the buildings in shambles. Much like a cyclone's eye, the ruins around the sick bay are quiet and the hobos that live there are, for the most part, peaceful. Taking a few steps beyond the buildings, however, will land you amongst the most impulsive and dangerous junkies of the neighbourhood. The place is so dangerous that the sick bay has living quarters for Jin's staff, so that they don't need to travel through the area to go home.  
Even the door Reg is standing before right now, which is made of reinforced steel, has a few dents in it from the time Jin hadn't yet asserted his authority on his territory.

Reg lifts up a hand and punches a code in the keypad next to the door. The small red light below turns orange, and a thin panel slides back to reveal a digital scanner. Reg presses his thumb against it, and the light remains orange. Green is for staff that is registered in the database, which Reg is a not part of, so the last step for him is facial recognition. He looks up at the camera that hangs above the door, waiting for the watchguard to recognize him.  
After a few minutes, the door opens from inside and the man behind it greets him.  
"Good evening, Mister Tracker."

Reg smiles and steps inside, and the door closes behind him.  
"Is Jin busy?" he asks the man.  
"Yes, but he shouldn't be too long. You are with the boy in room 45, correct?"  
"Yes."  
"Then I will escort you there."  
The man starts walking and Reg follows suit.

They reach Lyan's room and the man allows Reg to walk inside before quietly closing the door behind him. Reg shuffles closer to the bed and peels off his coat, throwing it on the seat beside the bed. Then he takes a look at the boy lying in the bed.

Lyan hasn't moved, and his skin is still as pale as ever. 

Reg sits down and reaches out, his hand stilling just before touching Lyan's. He hesitates. It feels strange to even attempt holding Lyan's hand, and he knows full well that the boy would avoid it at all costs if he were conscious: but he isn't, and Reg needs to know if Lyan is still as cold as earlier. If it weren't for the sounds of the machine next to Lyan's bed, he would look just like a corpse, pale and ghostly and completely immobile. Reg stares at the short distance separating their hands for a while, and finally makes up his mind. He closes the gap between him and Lyan, and takes the boy's hand in his own. It's limp in his grip and a bit too warm to the touch, but at least the boy is alive, and that's all that matters. Reg gently tightens his hold around Lyan's fingers and silently watches over him. Lyan's oxygen mask whooshes softly in the still and silent hospital room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin.  
> I'm kind of disappointed in myself for not having updated this story sooner. I didn't notice how fast the months went by and when I checked the time of the last update this story, I went something along the lines of: "Shiet."  
> I know I haven't been very prolific these days, but hey. These things happen.  
> Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter, and if you feel like it, leave a comment!


	31. A Simple Job

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A closer look on Jin's team.

Reg is jolted awake by the sudden buzzing of the small black radio on the floor. Jin's voice rings out in the hospital room.  
"Wakey wakey big guy, something came up. Just got word from Tom, we're going to need all hands on deck for this one. Over."

Reg blinks and slowly straightens in the seat next to the hospital bed. He rubs his face and yawns, feeling achey as ever. The radio buzzes again.

"Reg, seriously. Let's go, come on, move your ass. Over."

He bends over and picks up the radio, bringing it up to his mouth as his eyes linger on Lyan's still, white form. "I'm here, I'm here. Why do you need me? I need to watch over Lyan. Over."

"Lyan's not about to up and run away, but our target is. Besides, I have good trust in Kaj. She'll watch over him, all right? Over."

"... Is she the one who runs the place when you're not there? Over."

"Yes and no, they're two. Now get out of there and join me at the exit. I hate having hour-long conversations on this thing. Over."

Reg frowns, annoyed. "You still haven't told me why you need me exactly. Over."  
He waits, holding the radio in his hand, but there's no answer.  
Figures.  
Reg sighs and stands up, throwing the radio on the seat and rubbing his face again. He's tired, he doesn't want to leave Lyan alone, and his body is so stiff it feels like it's carved out of wood. Despite all that, he's still going to do what Jin tells him to do.

The man picks up his coat and heads to the door, pausing at the doorway to check on Lyan one more time. The machine wooshes steadily next to the boy, in rythm with the slow rise and fall of the sheets covering his chest.  
Reg looks back to the corridor and closes the door behind him. It's not like he can't listen to Jin's reasons for needing him on this job, if his friend even gives him any. Reg already suspects that the reason in question is that their target is the slippery kind. Targets that are prone to escaping into the night without leaving a single trace behind are a pain in the ass for Jin's team, but thankfully, no one can escape the Tracker. And it's a good thing Jin has him on speed dial.

As he walks down the white hallway, he crosses paths with the lady who escorted him to Jin's officer earlier. She smiles at him and says : "Good luck, mister Tracker."  
Reg nods. "Thank you. Please, make sure nothing happens to him while I'm gone."  
"I will."  
And they continue walking their respective ways.

Reg reaches the metal door and sees Jin standing next to it. The Asian man turns around to open the door with the keypad and Reg stops next to him. "Why do I have to come?"  
"You need the money," answers Jin.  
"What? Why?"  
"Because I'm not treating Lyan for free. You should stop taking me for a good samaritan."

The door opens and they walk outside.  
"You treat me for free, why not Lyan?"  
"You're different, you dense fucking idiot. Of course I'm not going to treat you the same way I treat some brat you picked off the street."

Reg doesn't insist and changes the subject. "I didn't know she was the Kajri you talked about."  
"Didn't you two meet before today?"  
"I don't know."  
"I see."  
"You trust her enough to give her the reigns when you're away?"  
"I don't really have a choice. I know I'm good but, news flash, Reg, I can't be at two places at once."  
"Okay, okay, I get it. You don't have to be a prick about it."  
Jin flashes him a snarky smile. "I don't have to be a prick about anything, doesn't stop me."

They circle the building and stop in front of another password protected door, this one like a hangar's.  
"So, why do I have to come?" asks Reg again as Jin's slender fingers punch in the code. "And I'm talking about why you need me."

They walk into the wide, dark room the door reveals as it slides open. As soon as they're inside, the door starts closing again and they take a few more steps forward in the darkness, towards the red line drawn across the floor. The door closes completely, the room is pitch-black, but only for a brief moment. The room lights up once they've crossed the line, a mechanism that only works if the door is closed. It attracts less unwanted attention. Jin's car stands in the far right corner. 

"Another eel. She's known to escape whenever she's close to be found out. We know she's into selling drugs to kids in the street. Problems are, one, it's real bad quality and easily overdosed, two, she tends to let her cronies do whatever they want with their costumers. Our contractor's two sons were exposed to it. They were assaulted, one of them died, the other's a vegetable. We also heard from various sources that this drug's been responsible for a lot of deaths on the street."

They both climb into the car and slam the doors shut.  
"How old were they?" says Reg.  
"Does it really matter? One of them died and the other one's pretty much gone. Whatever their age, younger and older people have died for the same reason. It's enough of a motivation to hunt her down, isn't it?"  
Jin starts up the engine and starts sliding the car towards the door.  
"So you need me to cut off all her escape routes?"  
"If she does try to escape, yeah. Which she undoubtedly will. We can go after her, but I want to be sure."  
"So I'm your safeguard."

The car crosses the red line and the lights shut down. The door starts to slide open.  
"Pretty much, yeah."  
"How much this time?"  
"How much do you want?"  
"Enough to cover Lyan's treatments, and... at least two months."  
"Two months is really long, Reg. I need you to be on your toes for when I need you."

Reg looks over at his friend. He doesn't like it very much when Jin tries to control him with money, but it is Jin's money in the first place. In the beginning, he wasn't even an official member of the team, so he wasn't supposed to get any money from the jobs; yet Jin still paid him. He owes him for that time, and for a lot more, so he can't have much of a say in it.

"I'm asking you for two months because if Lyan stays, I need to be able to pay for the both of us. I know you don't like it when I ask for more than one month, but honestly I'd like to have a little bit of a break to watch after him."  
"You've already had a break, Reg. I've been cutting you a lot of slack for that kid. Last time you were on a job with me was two weeks ago. Do you know how often I need you in the space of two weeks? An insanely high amount of times, that's what."  
"I know, but he's important."  
"What we do is important too," Jin replies, his voice suddenly cutting.  
Reg stares at him in surprise, then looks away from his friend's stern expression to watch the scenery flying by. "Sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

After a small moment of silence, Jin speaks again. "Fine, you'll get two months' worth. That'll be about half my pay." His icy tone is gone, like it never happened, but Reg felt the flare of the young man's emotions. He knows Jin isn't happy with what he said. He didn't think his words would get such a reaction out of his friend.  
"Thanks, Jin."  
"Yeah, yeah."

After fifteen minutes of driving, they reach the Extermination Service Headquarters. Jin parks his vehicle behind the building and they get out of the car. Reg trails behind his friend as the Asian man walks into the building and greets his secretary, who is sitting at her desk in a deceptively cheerful environment. The wallpaper behind her sports orange dots and her working place is littered with small trinkets. Even the narrow windowsill behind her isn't spared from the overflowing display of useless - but colourful - objects.

The team's headquarters has a perfectly normal exterior, and anyone trying to take a look inside would see a perfectly normal and rather pretty woman sitting at a perfectly normal desk with a sign that read "Specialists in Rat Extermination". 

"Hey there Mabel," salutes Jin.  
The woman looks up at him, her short brown curls brushing against her cheeks. 

The people who contact Mabel aren't people who see a phone number scribbled on the sign. There is no information about the service written anywhere. Their connections are all by word of mouth. It's taken time for Jin to pull the team together and for them to get known for their services, but they are efficient, and their efficiency pleases those who want revenge or justice.

Her eyes crinkle in a smile. "Hey there boss." Then she looks at Reg and gives him a short wave of the hand. "And hey there, Tracker."  
"Hello," answers Reg.  
"So, I guess everyone's ready to rumble, huh?" says Mabel. "They're all in the back. Tommy told us you were coming soon."  
"Thanks," says Jin. "By the way, nice color today."  
Reg glances at his friend, then pays closer attention to Mabel. Only then does he notice the purple eyeshadow. A bit too gaudy for his taste, but it does suit her.  
Mabel laughs. "Right, right. Go charm the other girls, boss, they're waiting for you."  
"Got it," says Jin, stepping away from the reception desk.

They make their way to the single conference room at the very back of the hall. Jin pushes the door open and walks in, Reg following him like a shadow.  
"Okay, everyone's here so let's start," says Jin as he walks to the front. Reg decides to stay back, next to the door. There are four other people in the room, all of whom have a slightly reproachful look on their faces.  
"You sure kept us waiting," huffs the huge red-haired man standing in the corner of the room.  
Jin looks over at him and shoots him a playful smile. "Don't be grumpy, Tom. And don't blame me, Tracker's the one who didn't want to wake up."  
Thomas glances at Reg. "You're supposed to be ready at a moment's notice."  
"Something came up," answers Reg calmly. "It won't happen again."

"Okay, guys, let's just get to work," intervenes the black-haired woman sitting at the table next to her collegue. She's leaned back against her chair, her asymetric ponytail swishing as she gestures towards Jin. "Our great boss has finally arrived, it's time we started getting our plan straight."

"You're right, Nikos, but I repeat, Tracker's the one who wanted to sleep. I wasn't the one running late," says Jin. "What kind of boss would I be if I didn't set the example?"  
"Right," answers Nikos as she derisively rolls her eyes and smiles. "You're the best."  
"I know that, but thank you. Before we begin, Mancy, do we have any new leads on the drug?" Jin inquires as he leans against the table and turns to the third member of his team, a woman with generous curves and messy fair hair. She tucks a blonde strand behind her ear, as she does when she's nervous. She often does it.  
Reg likes her the most out of the bunch, mostly because she's just as awkward as he is with people. She's the one who helped him out for Lyan's present.

"Well... It's not like we first thought. It's not a variation of Sandburg. It has similar effects, sure, like disminishing auditive capacities, veiling vision and inducing pleasure through endorphins, but when I tested it I noticed it also has the power to incapacitate the limbs, which is a completely different side effect than just veiling the senses. The mice couldn't move their paws, but their proximal articulations could still be mobilized. I also found the presence of an additional molecule and a replacement molecule, both cheaper than Sandburg's original components. I'm afraid yet another drug has infiltrated the market."  
"Shite," says Thomas. "No wonder her goons get away so easily with costumer assault."  
Mancinella purses her lips and doesn't say anything else.

"Okay," says Jin. "Do we know if anyone else has been distributing it?"  
"Apparently our eel holds the monopoly over its market since it's pretty recent. It's only spread like wildfire because it's so cheap," answers Nikos as she rubs the shaved side of her head. "But I've heard some rumors about brewing conflicts over who owns what."  
"I've heard it as well, especially in the Southern parts of the city," says Simon, the only one who's remained silent so far. Behind the rectangular glasses sitting askew on the bridge of his nose, his left eye blinks two times in a row. 

"I see. Has she tried to leave yet?"  
"No, not yet, but she's been moving more than usual recently. We need to act ASAP," says Thomas as he crosses muscular arms over his broad chest.  
"All right, then we leave tonight," states Jin. "There will be two snipers, two undercover, one intermediate. Nikos and me will go undercover as costumers," he says, looking at the dark-haired woman. "Mabel has managed to get her hands on fake ID from one of her contacts, so it should be easy to pass off as regular costumers. Then we separate : once we've incapacitated our respective dealers and taken their identity, I take the western wing and you take the eastern wing. We shut off all exits. Of course, if one of her goons identifies us as outsiders, we dispose of them."

Jin straightens and shows the radio hanging from Thomas' belt. "There will be no way of communicating with either me or Nikos, so we'll have to time it. Thomas will trigger the alarm by taking down as many of her underlings as he can at the northern lobby thirty minutes after we've gone under, and we'll close in from each side by doing the same pattern of attack. Tracker, you're up North, Simon, you take the South. You are to cut off her escape route. If all goes well, she shouldn't be able to exit the building in any other place than the southern route, so Simon, you'll be the killing shot. If it doesn't go as planned, Tracker is our safeguard. We cannot underestimate her ability to find another escape route."

Jin pauses and looks at Reg. "If Simon doesn't confirm the target in the five minutes that follow Tom's entry, you know what to do. Don't let her escape."  
Reg nods curtly.

Jin pushes himself off the table. "Any questions?"  
None of the members speak up, so he throws his hands out and shoots them a satisfied smile. "Great. Thomas, Tracker, and Simon, you take your positions at 1AM. Me and Nikos infiltrate the building at 1:30. Do whatever you judge necessary before then, grab your gear, clean up your messes, and eat supper like it could be your last. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin.
> 
> I know! I'm sorry! I suck!  
> I am the absolute worst, I say that I'll update soon and then I don't update soon, which is why I should stop saying that I will be updating soon! All frustration aside though, I hope you liked this chapter.  
> I should be studying for my exams that are in one week and a half but instead I'm doing all the stuff I told myself I'd do after the exams. It's stupid and I should be sleeping so that I can have a nice day of fruitful studying, but guess what? Brain said I'd be better off writing this chapter I was supposed to finish ages ago, and now it's finished!  
> So... yay brain?
> 
> I'm ranting because it's late and I'm tired.  
> So I'll just say this : thanks for reading, and leave a comment if you feel like it!
> 
> PS - Here's a headshot of Reg : https://tanukitan.deviantart.com/art/Reg-Headshot-734353790


	32. Reprimand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reg gets scolded by Jin's henchman.

The team members rise from their respective seats and Reg is about to follow Jin out of the room when he hears someone say his name. He stops at the door and turns around, ending up face to face with a towering Englishman.

"I need to have a word with you," says Thomas. "Spare the time?"

"Uh... Yes, of course," answers Reg after a small lapse of hesitation. "What is it?"

Thomas steps aside to let the rest of the team pass through the door. Nikos turns her head and silently mouths _good luck_ , shoots Reg a quick wink and is out the door in a second. Mancy follows without a word, although she does glance at him briefly with a sympathetic look on her face. Simon is more leisurely and takes his time getting out of his chair, and he bids them both goodbye before leaving.

Once they're all gone, the red-haired man proceeds to reprimand Reg.

"I'm sure Jin isn't totally innocent in the matter, but when we say we need you, you come straight away. The meeting was supposed to start fifteen minutes earlier."

"Were we that late?" asks Reg earnestly. "Sorry about that."

"Whether you're sorry or not isn't the problem, Tracker."

"I followed as soon as Jin told me we had to go. Granted, it took me a moment for me to join him, but I'm not responsible for the fifteen-minute difference."

"This isn't the problem I wanted to talk to you about," rectifies Thomas. "You being late isn't what bothers me here. What's truly problematic is that you haven't been as available recently. You do realize that you can't half-arse this job, don't you?"

"Yes, I know that," answers Reg. "Of course I know that. ... I've just had some things going on."

"Breaking news, Tracker. We've all got lives. That doesn't mean you can slack off."

"Hey, I never was supposed to be a full-timer," Reg defends himself. "I shouldn't even be letting you chew my ass out here! I only respond to Jin."

Thomas' shoulders seem to grow even bigger when he crosses his arms, if that's even possible.   
"Jin is uncharacteristically lenient when it comes to you, you know that. We all know it," he replies sternly. "And I know that this situation doesn't please Jin either. He must've told you about it."

Reg shifts uncomfortably. Holding long conversations was never his forte, and getting scolded by Thomas definitely isn't his favourite thing in the world. Especially when he knows he's in the wrong. "He did say that."

"I don't care what _things_ you have going on in your life. We don't care. We're all here to get the job done, and that includes you. The team needs all the help they can get, and you are a very important member, whether you like it or not." Thomas uncrosses his arms and points a finger at Reg's chest. "You are either in, or out. There is no in-between. Am I getting through to you?"

"... Yes, I get it," answers Reg, pushing Thomas' hand away. "I get it."

"Good," says Thomas, lowering his arm. "Let it be clear to you: I find you to be an extremely valuable asset to this team, and everyone agrees on that. You do a great job. But you have to be at maximum capacity whenever you're needed."

"I know, I know," answers Reg wearily.

Thomas stares at him and says: "Jin told me you finally found something important to you, and I'm sure this is what your absenteeism is all about. I'm glad you've found something meaningful in your life, all right? I'm not trying to demean it. I just want to make sure this machine is running as smoothly as possible."

"I know, Thomas. I know the importance of what the team does, and I don't mean to slow us down."

"As long as we understand each other." Thomas' ample hand lands on Reg's shoulder. "Let's go get ready, then."

Thomas heads out the door and Reg follows, parting ways with him when they reach the locker room. Reg steps up to his unit and presses his thumb on the small black square next to the metal door, which pops open and reveals an array of weapons. He only grabs his sniper rifle and hunting knife and sits down on the nearest bench to start checking the firearm's condition.

He didn't realize how much he was letting down the team. Lyan's well-being is so important to him that it has invaded his life and changed his priorities around without him even realizing it. Now that he thinks about it, it's true Jin's been getting more annoyed recently. He thought it was because of the possibility of a mole in the team's ranks, but it would also make sense if it was because of Reg's lackluster commitment to their cause.

Reg finishes checking the barrel and looks up at his open locker. A collection of knives hangs from the back and two guns are propped up against the side, but he rarely uses anything different from the usual duo. He tends to avoid using the hunting knife when he can; killing targets from afar is enough for him.

Reg looks back down at his rifle and continues the examination. 

When Jin started gathering various individuals from death-riddled horizons a few years ago and dropped him into the mix, Reg was only supposed to be the team's backup whenever they needed an extra member. However, his extraordinary ability to sniff out their targets earned him a spot as an essential member. Jin never told them about his power, and neither did he. The team simply had to accept that he had outstanding investigation skills. Thomas had the hardest time accepting that bullshit.

Thomas was Jin's fourth recruit, and turned out to be the one Jin relied on the most. He had a cautious and pessimist nature, but he was extremely stable and level-headed. Before his recruitement, Jin had been running the place in a slightly hectic manner, and it suited the others' taste for autonomy. The only time they truly came together at the ESH was when they needed to kill someone.  
Then Thomas came around. He liked things to be clean and orderly, so when he saw the state of their headquarters, he asked the others to help clean out the various rooms in the building. His impressive stature and serious expression usually made his questions sound more of an order, so the others balked at first, refusing to be ordered around by the new guy. Thomas didn't mind it. He simply wanted the building to serve a real purpose for their activities, so he started cleaning up the place on his own. The others soon fell in line, Simon first and Mabel last, and the ESH became more suited as a living space for the members. As a result, the team became more organized and the members more familiar with each other.

Of all seven members of the team, Thomas is the only one to use his real name. He is the only one who is completely open about his past. He was a soldier in the wrong hands. He fought wars for a bad cause. He killed innocents only to end up guilt-ridden and bloodstained with nothing to show for it. It's to make up for his mistakes that he helps Jin wipe out the city's rot.

All the team members are there to make up for their past in one way or another, but the others don't tell. 

Nikos is a tall woman with dark blue eyes and black hair, and her skin have the olive tan of the Greek. Specialized in stealth, she is usually Jin's first choice for undercover work. She used to be a talented archer when she owned a bow and is surprisingly good at wielding hatchets and axes half her size, but for the sake of being inconspicuous, her weapon of choice during a stakeout usually consists of a dagger. She always wears her hair in a ponytail or a bun to avoid having hair in her eyes at all costs. Her sinewy body and sculpted muscles tell of the strength she possesses, and she is proud of it. She wears sleeveless shirts so that her arms and shoulders dissuade any attacker from following through with their intentions - at least, that's her excuse for it. According to Jin, she just likes showing off.

Simon is a laid-back marksman who claims he's not afraid of dying, not since a bullet left a scar on his brow when he was nine. He's mastered the art of shooting people in the head. Reg supposes that there is something to say about learning to control the very thing that failed to kill you, but he can't figure out what and doesn't give it too much thought. Simon doesn't like to talk about why he chose to handle guns anyway.  
Simon never uses contact lenses and prefers to wear his glasses, however impractical or broken they might be. His eyelid stops twitching whenever he concentrates to make the shot, so the old wound isn't too troublesome. It's something he's grown used to, and the group around him too. In the beginning, Jin liked to annoy Simon by making fun of his single fluttering eyelid, but then quickly grew tired of making the same joke all the time because the marksman didn't quite give him the loud reaction he was looking for.

Mabel, on the other hand, likes to beat people to death with brass knuckles or just her "plain ol' knuckles". Reg doesn't know what kind of fighting style she likes best, but he's seen her in action and all of them are deadly. Whether covered in the blood of her dead victims or wearing a clean set of frilly clothes, she is a charming girl with an appealing smile who knows how to charm her way around the male sex. Mabel is the kind of hot-blooded girl who reacts strongly to being ordered around by a man, but will otherwise act perfectly sweet the rest of the time. She likes to speak in the name of people she's never known and will defend causes she doesn't understand if she thinks it's the right thing to do, even when it doesn't make sense. Jin finds her behaviour pretty grating, but her connections and efficient punches make Mabel an invaluable member.

Mancinella isn't as good a fighter as the rest, but she is an expert on toxicology who can knife someone in the throat if need be. Her short and curvy stature is misleading, as she knows how to move her body quickly and efficiently, and her timid demeanor hides well the fact that she knows all there is to know about killing. The team calls her Mancy. She has a habit of staying alone in her lab at the ESH, and she even has a bed in the adjacent storage space. She has a kind and quiet nature which makes her the only generally liked member, although Nikos is the one who likes her the most. Mancinella always manages to stay out of the heated discussions and object-flinging arguments, which happen more often than the team cares to admit. 

It's not easy for trained killers to remain calm and calculating 24/7 when they have a boss like Jin and live with each other constantly. Usually the fights happen after a string of usual missions or a really big operation that leaves everyone feeling moody and on edge. When it happens, Mabel is the one doing the throwing. Nikos and Thomas are shouters. Simon sulks. Mancinella watches quietly from a corner of the room. And Jin... Well, he smiles. 

He always smiles when he's with others. Reg believes he might be the only one Jin trusts enough to drop that smile. When there's anyone other than Reg with them, the right corner of Jin's mouth tugs upwards in the faintest of smirks. When he's mad, he mocks. When he's sad, he laughs. When he's worried, he grins. When he's hurt, he jokes. Nothing can reach him beyond that smile : the world is just another thing to poke fun at. Reg's never been able to figure out why Jin acts this way in front of them, because when it's just the two of them, it's obvious Jin doesn't really feel like smiling.

Reg notices some rusty flecks on the knife which he missed last time. He grabs the spray bottle sitting on the bench and squirts its contents on the handle, then exchanges it with the rag next to it. Once he's rubbed enough for the specks to disappear, he sets the piece of cloth to the side and sheathes the knife before clipping it to his belt. Reg stands up and slings the gun over his shoulder, and shuts the locker in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey pumpkin.  
> Wow, I'm almost right on time! I almost can't believe it! It's almost been exactly a month! Almost!  
> So, meet the team (for real this time) : here are some proper introductions. Who do you think will be your favourite?  
> Another question, are you guys curious about having a chapter where they actually do their job and then go back to Lyan in the next, or going back to Lyan right away? Or maybe I'll go back to Lyan, then to their job, then back to the hospital... I dunno, I feel like it's important to show what they actually do... Hmmm...
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading, and leave a comment if you feel like it!


End file.
